


Someone to Hide Behind

by Sand3



Series: Someone to Hide Behind [2]
Category: All New X-Men (Comics), Dark Wolverine (Comics), Marvel 616, Wolverines (Comics), X-23 (Comic)
Genre: Gen, Logan (posthumous)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-03-15 13:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 73,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sand3/pseuds/Sand3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to Something to Hide Behind.<br/>Starting during Wolverines #7 and branching away from canon.</p><p>Laura has a multi-stepped plan for piecing her tiny, broken family together. First she has to save Daken from self-destructing, then the real work begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Step One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Daken, I do not work for Mystique,” Laura breathed, barely audible, “and neither do you.”  
> Daken was silent.  
> “... After she leaves the ship, you and I are going to wait ten minutes and then we are going to leave,” Laura whispered. “If somebody notices that we are missing, they will not be able to compromise Mystique’s extraction by following us until after she has been picked up. That should give us at least an hour before she sends Sabertooth after us, right?”  
> Daken took a moment to consider, and then nodded.  
> “... You and I will be in Salem by then.”

Laura was sleeping in the chair again. She was slumped over the table, her head pillowed on her arms, the rise and fall of her shoulders marking each breath. Daken rolled onto his side, putting his back to her, taking care to be silent. She had slept in that chair the last three nights. Monitoring Daken. Making sure his door was locked. Making sure none of the reprobates or science experiments came sniffing around. Looking after him like an invalid.

Daken glared at the wall and scratched at the stump of his arm. He would not be coddled. He would not be a useless waste of resources. He would not live like this. He would not die like this. What was left? Die doing something useful. What could he even do? All of his grand plans were gone because he had never quite imagined an opponent on Sinister’s level. He should do something to force Shogun to release Laura. But Shogun was no amateur, his youth seemed to be as superficial as Daken’s, and in his current state, Daken wasn’t a match for him.

Daken sat up abruptly, and he could hear Laura start awake, lifting her head, as he pushed himself off the cot and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” Laura asked behind him, accompanied by the sound of her chair pushing back.

“To throw myself out of a window like the drama-queen I am,” Daken tossed back, flipping the lock and shoving the door out of the way as he stormed into the hall. He could hear Laura trailing after him, following at a distance, giving him ‘space’ while making sure he didn’t hurt himself. As if he were a tantruming child.

He stalked through the narrow halls of the ship with no destination in mind, just the need to move. He wanted to be outside, but the hum of the engines told him they were airborne, so he continued stomping down the hallway until it reached the ladder to the lower deck. He climbed down a few steps and then jumped the rest of the way, hearing Laura snap his name in reprimand because he was too _fragile_ to be doing such things.

He tried the door to the bridge as he walked past, it was locked. A few yards on, he caught the handle on the galley door and pushed it open, then froze, glaring. Creed looked up at him, from where he was hunched at the table, _reading_ _Nietzsche_ \- because why the fuck not? Clearly the world was ending.

“Ain’t it past your bed time, kiddies?” Creed grunted, raising an eyebrow.

Daken took a run at him, grabbing an empty chair with the arm he still had and whipping it up to swing at the behemoth. “Dak- HEY!” Creed shouted, grabbing the chair and trying to yank it out of Daken’s reach. Daken surrendered it without a struggle in favor of slamming his claws through Creed’s left lung.

“ _Daken!_ ” Laura shouted, running in and grabbing at him.

“... _Damn_ it, kid,” Creed growled, grabbing hold of Daken’s wrist after the second stab. “Now you’re gonna to have to _sterilize_ these things before you can retract,” he mocked.

Daken roared, delivering a kick to the side of Creed’s head followed by a shot in the groin and then slammed a foot into his knee hard enough to snap it backwards, relishing every sound of pain that passed the oversize bastard’s lips. He got in six more kicks but Creed refused to relinquish his arm, finally managing to grab Daken around the waist and flip him to the ground, pinning him by the neck like a dog.

“ _Sabertooth if you so much as_ \--”

“I’m _restraining_ him, princess!” Creed protested, cutting off Laura’s threat. “He’s hurting himself more’n me!”

“ _I will make you eat those words, animal!_ ” Daken shouted.

“Then _come at me_ after you _figure_ your _shit_ out!” Creed yelled back. “I got _no_ interest fighting you when you’re being a stupid, pissy _brat!_ ”

“Let him go!” Laura snarled.

“Can _you_ hold him?” Creed snapped. “I ain’t letting him up until he _calms the fuck down_.”

“... Daken, calm down. This is accomplishing nothing,” Laura ordered, crouching down nearby.

“Heard Junk say he’s been knocking Daken out with a sleep-word all day. Probably why he’s so wired now,” Creed growled. “You gonna _accept_ that, kid? Being _sedated_ like a _lunatic_ because you can’t _control_ _yourself?_ You used to be all _about_ control, Daken. You used to say that was the difference between you and Logan. You used to pride your lucidity more’n anything.”

“SHUT UP!”

“GET A GRIP!”

“ _Daken_ ,” Laura’s small, soft hand landed on the side of his face, contrasting the huge, clawed paw on the back of his neck. “I _need_ you to _calm down_.”

“What’s going on?” Shogun demanded, running into the room.

“ _Nothing_. We’re _fine_ ,” Creed snapped.

“ _He_ doesn’t look ‘fine’.”

“ _Don’t_ \--”

“If you knock _him_ out, you’d better be ready to drop _me_ too,” Creed snarled.

“... I didn’t think you two were friends,” Shogun said quietly.

“We got a common enemy in the man holding the _leash_ ,” Creed growled darkly.

“... I’ll keep that in mind,” Shogun said and left.

“... _Get off of me_ ,” Daken hissed through gritted teeth and was finally released. Daken glared daggers at Creed while he drew himself to his feet. “ _You_ \--”

“Go wash your claws, brat,” Creed rumbled, meeting his glare evenly. “The _last_ thing you need is to have to have the _other_ one amputated.”

“ _Shut_ \--”

“ _Daken!_ ” Laura grabbed onto his arm, pulling against him. “Let’s _go_.”

Daken kept glaring at Creed as he let Laura pull him from the room. If he wanted a useful death, Daken thought that grabbing onto Creed and dragging him off the ship while they were thirty-thousand feet over the Pacific might be a good way to go. Perhaps he’d dedicate the rest of his night to planning just that.

000

Laura growled, finding the door unlocked again. She slid it open and then stopped, looking around the room. Daken’s ability to mask his scent inspired her to walk inside for a closer visual inspection before becoming sure that he was not there. She growled again and left, moving along the hallway, sorting out the scents of the ship’s occupants roaming up and down the corridors over the past few days, until she caught something current and turned a corner to find Deathstrike glaring out a porthole at the ocean.

“Have you seen Daken?” Laura asked.

Deathstrike turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow and scratching her finger against the glass of the porthole to make a wretched screech. She said nothing. Laura narrowed her eyes and walked past the woman, who went back to ignoring her.

Laura hunted Sabertooth’s scent back to his room and pounded on the door. A minute later, the door slid back and Sabertooth gave her an uncertain look. “... Laura.”

“Where is Daken?” Laura demanded.

“Talking to Mystique last I knew,” Sabertooth shrugged. Laura turned and headed for the bridge. “You’re welcome,” Sabertooth called after her.

Laura came to the bridge and reached for the door, half expecting it to be locked, however it yielded at her touch and slid aside. She caught sight of Daken crouching next to the holographic table, gesturing within the building represented above it, as Mystique stood at his side, leaning over to follow his point.

“-or here but... Laura,” he broke off, looking up as Laura entered.

“Is something on your mind, X-23?” Mystique asked, leaning back and casting her a casually disdainful look.

Laura glared at her. “I need to speak to Daken,” she growled.

“Can it wait? We’re in the middle of something,” Mystique said, raising an eyebrow at her.

“... Fine,” Laura said tightly and turned back out into the hall, sliding the door shut.

She leaned against the wall a few feet away, in the best position to see into the room when the door opened. To ensure she would know _who_ came out of it. She pressed her lips together and watched the door. Daken had looked more alert and engaged in that moment than he had since Paradise. Mystique no doubt wanted to break into the building in the hologram, and she was asking for Daken’s opinions on the infiltration and extraction. She didn’t need it. She was undoubtedly more experienced than him at heists. But she had approached him and asked him to exercise his tactical savvy- a skill he still had. She was making him feel useful. Damn her.

Every person on this ship was a top-predator, but Mystique as something more. And she apparently wanted Daken in her thrall. She was there when he died. She and Sabertooth had arranged it. She had seen Daken face and succumb to death, only to return vital and restored. She didn’t believe he was finished now either, and she wanted Daken for her supplicant. Laura narrowed her eyes, glaring at the closed door. She flexed her fingers, balling them into fists and then stretching them out a few times. Her claws itched.

Finally the door opened again and Daken came out of it. Laura leaned to the side, looking around him as he gave her a questioning look. She caught sight of Mystique still standing next to the holographic table. She waved at Laura, smirking, relishing the paranoia she’d instilled. Laura scowled at her as Daken let the door shut. “You’re angry at Mystique,” Daken noted, starting to walk down the hall.

“She threatened me,” Laura replied, falling into step with him. “Where are you going?”

“She wants me to fetch Shogun for her,” Daken gave a small shrug.

“... This ship has an _intercom_ ,” Laura gritted, glowering ahead of her. “She could call him herself. She doesn’t need you to _fetch_ him. She wants you to run errands for the _sake_ of making you _run errands_.”

“I know,” Daken nodded.

“And you’re doing it anyway,” Laura grimaced, looking up at him.

“This isn’t for me,” Daken explained. “She’s sending a message to Shogun and its nuance would be lost over an intercom.”

“... What message?” Laura asked.

“That she is in charge and _he_ _isn’t_ ,” Daken said, stopping in front of a door and pulling it open. “Shogun. Mystique wants you. She’s on the bridge,” he announced and then turned and walked back the way he’d come, ignoring Shogun’s attempt to question him, so as to further illustrate Shogun’s unimportance. Laura had to admit that the message really may have lost nuance over a speaker.

She followed Daken back toward the ladder to the upper deck. “... You knew where he would be,” she noted.

“This ship’s internal sensors know where all of us are, all the time,” Daken replied. “Mystique only has to ask.”

Laura bit her lip and followed him up the ladder, then chased Daken back to his room. She locked the door behind them and then leaned against it for a moment, thinking. “... Lay down,” Laura said quietly.

Daken gave her a puzzled look. “Why?”

“Lay down,” Laura repeated.

Daken sighed irritably but complied, dropping onto the bed and laying on his back. Laura moved across the room and braced a hand against the mattress as she leaned over him. “Laura- what are...” Daken started and then trailed off, seeming to understand as she put her mouth right next to his ear and used her other arm to cup the pillow around their heads, closing in the tiny space and muffling it from any microphones that might be, and were, hiding in the room.

“Daken, I do not work for Mystique,” Laura breathed, barely audible even within the pillow cocoon, “and neither do you.”

Daken was quiet.

“Is Mystique planning to steal something from that building?” she asked. There was a pause and then Daken nodded. “Is it near a city?” Another nod. “... After she leaves the ship, you and I are going to wait ten minutes and then we are going to leave,” Laura whispered. “If somebody notices that we are missing, they will not be able to compromise Mystique’s extraction by following us until after she has been picked up, right?”

Daken took a moment to consider, and then nodded. “That should give us at least an hour before she sends Sabertooth after us, right?” He thought a bit and nodded again. “... You and I will be in Westchester by then.”

Daken started to sit up, drawing a breath, gritting his teeth, Laura grabbed his shoulder, just above where his arm aborted, and shoved him back down before he’d found his balance. “ _Daken_ ,” she hissed. “ _My_ team isn’t even _in_ Westchester. I am not dragging you ‘home’, calm down,” she said after she’d rebuilt the cocoon. “... These words Shogun is using to control us- they are not magic, they are _hypnotic_. That means a sufficiently skilled telepath could find and remove them. They were only a threat if we didn’t know about them or were unable to get proper help,” she explained carefully.

Daken settled, waiting and listening again. “... I have stayed on the ship this long for two reasons. The first was that Shogun knew where Logan’s body was. Now the X-Men have it, and I know that Storm will treat it with respect,” she explained carefully. “The reason I did not leave Sinister’s lair with _them_ yesterday is _you_. I will not turn my back on you, Daken.”

Laura heard Daken’s breath falter ever so slightly. She swallowed and then continued. “I believe finding the words that were implanted in our minds might be very delicate. I trust Jean, but I do not trust her ability to handle something like this, and I do not trust Frost not to have the Cuckoos lobotomize you,” Laura explained carefully. “Psylocke holds to the telepathic ethics of Professor Xavier, she will not hurt you if you are not attacking. And if she will not _help_ you, then we will _leave_ and find someone else. But either way, we are _leaving_ when this ship makes land.”

She pushed herself up to look at Daken, he stared back up at her for a moment, his jaw clenched and lips pursed, and then he shifted, shuffling himself sideways against the wall, making space on the bed and giving a beckoning gesture with his fingers. Laura twisted around and laid down, dropping her head into the pillow and curling it around as Daken leaned down next to her ear. “Psylocke is X-Force. She will drop me on sight,” he breathed.

Laura frowned and sat up, pushing the pillow toward Daken. He flopped onto his back again and Laura reestablished the cocoon. “I will not _let_ her,” she whispered. “If she will not help you, then we, _both_ of us, will leave and find something else,” she said firmly, and then paused, taking a deep breath. “... If I can convince her to help you, will you let her?”

Daken was still for several minutes before finally nodding. Laura pushed herself upright again and sat on the edge of Daken’s bed, looking down at him while he looked back up at her. Laura found his hand and clasped it. “I will not turn my back on you,” she said softly.

000

“Where are you going?” Laura demanded, glaring at Mystique and Shogun as they headed for the exit.

“Shopping,” Mystique smirked at her.

“Why are we here? What does _this_ have to do with Logan?” Laura persisted. “What does _any_ of this have to do with preserving your _life_ , Shogun? You have already gotten most of your team _killed_ , how much longer do you intend to dawdle and play this _fool’s_ game before you stop holding our lives _ransom?_ ”

“Let the grown-ups worry about all that, dear. Off you go now,” Mystique waved dismissively.

Laura snarled and turned sharply, heading for the hall to Daken’s room. She could hear Mystique chuckle behind her and Laura felt a smirk curling her own lips as the two departed on their errand. She pushed open the door to find that Daken had deigned to put on a shirt. “Ten minutes,” Laura said quietly, closing the door.

Daken nodded and then tilted his head slightly. “... You don’t have any other clothes?” he asked.

Laura looked down at her uniform. “No.”

“That’s going to draw attention,” Daken noted.

Laura considered that, chewing on her lip. “Sabertooth wouldn’t _bother_ asking people ‘have you seen a girl who looks like-’ so I don’t really see as it matters.”

Daken shrugged and picked up a jacket lying on the bed, draping it over his shoulders, camouflaging his missing arm. Laura leaned against the table and found herself smirking again. “Your hair is as distinctive as anything else. I wonder if anyone will even notice _my_ fashion sense,” she said and was pleased to see the corner of Daken’s lips twitch upwards slightly.

After ten minutes had passed, Laura preceded Daken into the hall, testing the air carefully and repeatedly as they made their way toward the exit on silent feet. Laura could hear movement in the range as they passed through the lower level, recent scents told her it was Junk, but no one interrupted them. The gate opened without issue and let them out into a wooded area.

“Where are we?” Laura asked quietly, listening and catching the sounds of traffic not far off.

“Taipei,” Daken answered, following as Laura headed for the road. “How much Hokkien can you speak?”

“I speak Mandarin,” Laura shrugged. “But I’m not planning on starting many conversations... How are you at pick-pocketing?”

“Artful,” Daken replied.

“I need a phone. A smart-phone.”

“I don’t think they have dumb-phones in Taiwan,” Daken said. “Find me a city, I’ll find you a phone.”

000

Ororo started awake and floundered in the blankets for a few moments as the landline by her bed began to ring. She rolled and crawled and reached until she managed to get hold of the receiver and drag it to her ear. “‘lo?” she mumbled, rubbing at her eyes.

“ _Storm, this is Laura. I am in Taiwan and I have perhaps twenty minutes before Mystique sends Sabertooth to track me. I- I need to leave. I need help,_ ” Laura’s voice came over the line, starting with its usual strength and then faltering- asking for help was difficult for her, like father like daughter.

Ororo shoved the blankets off of her and scrambled out of the bed, grabbing for the pad of paper and pen sitting on the stand next to the phone. “Where are you specifically? Can you stay on the line?” she demanded aloud and then called in her loudest mental voice, _Betsy! I need a team ready to go immediately! You, Kurt, Monet and Megan! I want Rachel tracking us in Cerebra! This is an emergency extraction, I need everybody ready in my office in five minutes!_

 _Roger,_ Betsy’s answer came immediately.

“ _I am at twenty-five degrees, five minutes and fifty point three-three-four seconds North and one-twenty-one degrees, thirty-two minutes and fifty-one point one-three-six seconds East,_ ” Laura said, voice strong again as she was back on the solid ground of dealing with facts. “ _I will attempt to stay on the line._ ”

“Good girl,” Ororo muttered, copying down the coordinates and then pressing the speaker-phone button as she went to fetch her uniform. “Why did you not come with us yesterday, Laura?”

“ _Mystique had leverage over me and she was watching me. She is distracted now, stealing something, but it will not last long enough for me to escape on my own,_ ” Laura answered.

“How did she threaten you, Laura?” Ororo asked.

“... _I cannot discuss it over the phone,_ ” Laura said.

Ororo nodded slightly, fastening herself into her uniform and clipping her cape in place. “Laura, I am going to put you on hold for a moment while I move to another room. Please stay on the line if you are able,” she instructed.

“ _I will try._ ”

Ororo hit the key to transfer the call to her office and grabbed the page with Laura’s coordinates, then started toward the administrative wing at a run. She was halfway there when Kurt burst into the air next to her and began loping along beside her. “What has happened, Storm?” he asked as they ran.

“Laura,” Ororo replied. “Mystique was holding her with some kind of threats. We shouldn’t have left her.”

“Do we know where she is now?”

“Taipei.” They turned the last corner and Betsy was standing next to Ororo’s office as they charged up the hall. Ororo pushed through the door without greeting her and ran to the phone on her desk, grabbing the receiver and asking, “Are you still there, Laura?”

“ _Yes_.”

“Good. We will be with you shortly,” Ororo said, putting Laura back on speaker as she dragged her computer around and pushed it open.

“What’s the emergency?” Monet’s voice demanded behind her.

“Laura is in need of rescue,” Kurt answered.

Ororo had just pulled up a satellite map when a flash of pink light was accompanied by Megan’s sleepy voice yawning, “I’m here! I’m ready! Ready for adventure! Where are we going?”

“Taipei. Here,” Ororo said, turning the computer and stepping aside as Megan staggered over, still looking half asleep.

“Oh, okay, that’s... that’s in Taiwan? Like, under China?” Megan mumbled, zooming the image out and then back in. “I can do that.”

“Are you sure?” Ororo asked, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Time is of the essence, Megan. Laura is in danger.”

“Laura? Oh! Oh no! No I can do it!” Megan exclaimed, becoming more alert and straightening back up.

“ _I am in an alley_ ,” Laura said over the speakerphone. “ _In a suburban area north of the Keelung River_.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I got the little pin on the map. I can totally do this,” Megan said, drawing a breath. “ _Sihal novarum chinoth!_ ”

The next moment there was another pink flash and Ororo felt herself being dragged and dropped. She panted slightly, trying to reorient herself. “Storm,” Laura’s voice called, real now, not filtered through a speaker, and Ororo turned, at first pleased and relieved that Laura’s directions and Megan’s aim had been so good, and then she froze, staring at the man leaned against the brick wall a few feet behind Laura.

“ _Daken_ ,” Ororo hissed, narrowing her eyes at the assassin who stared back at her through polarized sunglasses. Laura would never lead them into an ambush, Ororo reminded herself. She had more than earned the trust Ororo or any X-Man would place in her. She had never, in all the time Ororo had known her, done anything to abuse that trust. “... Laura, I need you to explain this,” Ororo said calmly.

Laura’s eyes turned to Betsy and a moment later Ororo heard Betsy’s ‘voice’ saying, _All right, you’re networked. Go._

 _Daken was conditioned for obedience every bit as much as I was_ , Laura’s ‘voice’ said as her eyes focused back on Ororo’s. _His outward narcissism and ability to operate unsupervised disguises the fact that he was disciplined for servitude. I was made to be sellable, and so I was conditioned to follow the orders of any authority figure. Daken was made to obey a single master_ , Laura explained, looking back and forth between Ororo and Betsy.

Ororo glanced at Betsy and met her eyes as Laura continued. _Logan did not understand that removing Romulus as Daken’s master did not remove his ingrained_ _ **need**_ _for a master. Mystique_ _ **does**_ _understand that and I have witnessed her in recent days vying for the role_ , Laura said and Ororo drew a sharp breath, feeling a chill at the very thought as she looked again at Daken. _However, it seems that Daken would rather follow_ _ **my**_ _orders. I do not_ _ **want**_ _to be his master. I am nauseated by the idea of it. But I will_ _ **not**_ _let Mystique have him._

“... Betsy?” Ororo asked quietly, turning to her friend.

“... You’re being tracked?” Betsy asked, looking at Laura. “This is perhaps not the best time for a long discussion.”

“There is no discussion. I am not leaving without him,” Laura said firmly.

“Laura,” Daken called in a calm, quiet voice. “Creed can’t track me. I’ll be fine. Get out of here.”

Laura turned around and glared at him. “You are not planning on _hiding_ from him, you are planning on _fighting_ him,” she accused. “He is _twice_ your weight an _uninjured_. I am _not_ leaving without you.”

“... I could surprise him,” Daken said. “He’d never smell me coming.”

“ _No_ ,” Laura snapped and Daken fell silent, glancing away.

 _... I find it curious that he’s not arguing, love,_ Betsy whispered into Ororo’s mind.

“How about if I just put my hands around his neck while Pixie ports us out of here, and if he squirms, I squeeze?” Monet offered.

“She’s a tank?” Daken murmured, glancing back at Laura.

“I don’t know her,” Laura said, eyeing Monet suspiciously.

“Oh hi, honey! I’m Monet St. Croix!” Monet introduced herself cheerfully, waving at Laura. “I’m sure Jubes has told you all sorts of horrible things about me! And yes, I’m a tank. I crush nasty bad-boys like flies on a windshield.”

“Whatever we’re going to do, we should do it quickly,” Kurt noted. “Or at least move somewhere else to discuss it.”

Daken pushed away from the wall and started toward them. “ _Daken_ ,” Laura grabbed his arm as he passed her.

“We need to leave and Miss St. Croix has made a very reasonable suggestion,” Daken said calmly, pulling his arm free and giving Laura’s shoulder a squeeze before walking over and standing in front of Monet. “Ready when you are.”

“Huh... You are not in great shape, are you?” Monet noted, looking at him closely before reaching up and wrapping her hands around Daken’s neck.

“Ouch. I like _your_ shape,” Daken replied.

Monet rolled her eyes. “ _Right_. That’s...” she trailed off, her eyebrows raising and her mouth dropping open slightly.

“Okay, this is _not_ going to work. Monet, _drop_ him,” Betsy snarled.

“ _Do_ _not injure him!_ ” Laura shouted.

 _He’s injureable?_ Betsy’s ‘voice’ wondered to Ororo, who frowned softly. “Monet, catch,” Betsy said out loud and a moment later Daken was collapsing. The jacket fell off his shoulders as Monet grabbed him and Ororo gritted her teeth as she caught sight of Daken’s left arm, abbreviated halfway down the bicep.

“ _What did you do?!_ ” Laura demanded, running forward.

“Oh jeeze! He’s all missing parts and stuff!” Megan exclaimed.

“I made him sleep. He’s not any more damaged than he already was,” Betsy answered and Laura seemed to calm somewhat as Monet slid and arm under Daken’s legs, repositioning him to carry and looking disgruntled.

“Did- did this fucker just...” Monet mumbled, becoming steadily more flustered.

“Hit you with a pheromone cocktail,” Betsy confirmed.

“ _Son_ of a _bitch!_ ” she made to drop Daken.

“ _Don’t!_ ” Laura shouted, trying to grab him.

“ _Monet_ ,” Ororo snapped. “We need to move. Megan, please take us directly to the Danger Room.”

“Right! _Sihal novarum chinoth!_ ”

000

“Danger Room- containment lockdown. Respond only to commands from faculty,” Storm ordered as the light of Pixie’s teleport faded.

“ _Containment lockdown confirmed. Faculty access only,_ ” the Danger Room’s synthesized voice announced.

“I am _dropping_ this piece of shit now!” St. Croix announced.

“ _Don’t_ \--” Laura started.

“Set him down _gently_ , Monet,” Storm commanded and St. Croix begrudgingly complied. “Megan, thank you for your assistance. You are excused from your morning classes if you choose to sleep in,” Storm said, turning to Pixie.

“Oh. Thanks. So... I guess I’ll just go back to bed then?” Pixie frowned, looking disappointed and annoyed.

“I would appreciate you not mention Daken’s presence to any of the other students,” Storm said.

“... That’s kinda... Mm... Yeah, okay,” Pixie agreed, nodding reluctantly. “G’night- or morning- everybody!” she sighed, heading for the door.

“Danger Room, allow Megan Gwynn to exit,” Storm commanded.

“ _Confirmed_ ,” the Danger Room chimed, opening the door for Pixie and then closing it behind her.

Laura crouched down next to Daken, brushing a hand over him and smelling for blood or other signs of fresh injury. There was nothing new, he hadn’t been scratched when he’d stumbled and St. Croix hadn’t bruised him. Nightcrawler crouched down on the other side of him, trying to catch Laura’s eyes. “Liebling, perhaps you will tell us now what has happened?” he asked quietly. “How did Daken become so injured?”

“... Sinister... and a creature Abraham Cornelius created,” Laura said, gently removing Daken’s sunglasses. “It... the creature... it killed Elixir...” she whispered, her throat becoming dry. “... It was just seconds... It grabbed him... and then he was dead. Then it caught Daken... I- I cut it... and it ran... It keeps coming back. I’ve shot it and cut it and seen it fall many stories to the ground... and it keeps coming back... It’s very fast. I can’t bring it down long enough to safely capture it... If I get close enough for it to touch me... Daken... his blood doesn’t clot.”

There was a long silence in the room. “... Josh disappeared from Rainbow Valley two weeks ago... Dani has been searching for him,” Storm’s voice was small, desolate. “Why... why was he...?”

“I don’t know,” Laura shook her head. “He wasn’t like the rest of us... I don’t know how he became part of Cornelius’ database... But that thing... He didn’t think it would be able to hurt him. I didn’t imagine it could either... It was _seconds_...”

“... What happened to his body, Laura?” Psylocke asked softly.

“I... we ran... because of the creature...” Laura whispered, feeling a swell of shame that made her grit her teeth as her stomach turned. “... I think I could find the place he died on a map.”

“... Please don’t say anything about it to the other students, Laura,” Storm said and Laura nodded.

“... The reason I reached out to you and not my own team,” Laura started, shaking herself and trying to refocus on the problem at hand, “is that Cornelius has apparently captured Daken and me, and the others you saw me with as well, repeatedly in recent months and implanted words in our subconscious to control us and remove the memory of these violations. These words are known by the organization he was part of and others as well, and can be used to control or kill us at any time. The people who abducted us have been using the threat of these words to force our compliance.”

“... That bastard,” Storm whispered, and then asked in a clearer voice, “Do we have confirmation of Cornelius’ death?”

“All signs point to yes, but I haven’t seen a body,” Psylocke answered.

“Shogun seems to believe that he is dead,” Laura said.

“Who is Shogun?”

“The man with the red mask,” Laura answered. “He led the people who abducted us. Most of his team defected or was killed when we attacked Sinister. He knows how to fight, but he is an idiot. And now he belongs to Mystique... He is responsible for Elixir’s death.”

“... We’ll find him,” Nightcrawler said, catching Laura’s hand and squeezing it reassuringly. “We will find all of them.”

“... The words,” Laura said quietly.

“I’ll get them out of you,” Psylocke assured her.

“And Daken,” Laura reminded. There was an elongated pause. “... Do you want the people who worked for Cornelius to be able to control him?” she asked, looking up at Psylocke. “Or Mystique? She will probably find a way to force Shogun to give her Daken’s command words.”

“She has a point,” St. Croix noted.

“... Laura, he belongs in prison,” Storm said quietly.

“There is no evidence,” Laura said, looking at her again. “We have been told that he was an assassin for several decades, but there has never been sufficient evidence tying him to a death for any charges to be brought against him.” She narrowed her eyes. “However SHIELD is more than willing to hold a ‘mutant terrorist’ indefinitely without evidence or charges.”

“Laura...” Storm sighed, rubbing her face.

“You sound like Cyclops,” Psylocke noted, looking and sounding amused.

“I have seen it,” Laura answered easily. “They do not even need evidence that a crime has _occurred_ to hold a mutant.”

“She drank the coolaid,” St. Croix smirked.

“Laura makes a few points though,” Nightcrawler said. “Most of Daken’s ‘career’ has happened while he was under Romulus’ control, ja? And afterwards... the man must have severe psychological damage and he was simply... dismissed. Logan and all of us had more pressing matters to concern ourselves with. He is a victim in many ways, and we have forgiven and aided mutants who have committed crimes equivalent to his and had far more control of their actions.”

“... I’ll remove his trigger words,” Psylocke sighed, looking unhappy. “But we still have ‘more pressing matters to concern ourselves with’. Our responsibility is to the children of this school and Daken’s presence would jeopardize their safety.”

“He would not want to stay here,” Laura said, shaking her head. “And I am not staying either. I have a team. I came to you with this because Frost is... less ethical than you.”

That inspired a laugh from Psylocke, Nightcrawler and St. Croix and Storm smirked a little.

000

 _Well somebody’s seen better days_ , Rachel noted, strolling into the Danger Room, its door locking again behind her.

 _Apparently he’s a hemophiliac now too_ , Betsy replied, standing next to the dentist chair Daken was draped in, her arms folded across her chest.

 _That’ll slow him down_ , Rachel said. “You don’t want to get some sleep, Laura?” she asked, turning to look at the girl perched backwards on an office chair a few yards away.

“I just came from Taiwan. It was afternoon,” Laura replied. “I have been in many time-zones this week.”

“Ah,” Rachel nodded. “So, just observing then?”

“Yes,” Laura agreed.

 _Chaperoning_ , Betsy added.

_Him or us?_

_Who knows?_

“Okay, so first we’re going to wake him up,” Rachel said aloud as she and Betsy took positions on either side of Daken. _After you_ , she said nodding to Betsy.

Daken woke with a sharp intake of breath and sat forward slightly, his one eye coming open with a snap. “Relax,” Betsy commanded; he cast her a wary glance and then looked at Laura who stared evenly back at him. Daken settled back into the chair. “We are going to put you into a hypnotic trance state to operate. How long this takes depends on how much you fight me. I’m going to be working primarily on your language center, so I have no intention of disturbing your memories or any of that,” Betsy said calmly.

“All right,” Daken agreed. “I’ll try to be cooperative,” he said, pretending to relax while his mind was on edge, boiling over with distrust.

“Focus on my voice,” Rachel instructed. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Tw--” she cut off with a sharp yelp and jumped backward several feet before spinning around and running for the door.

“Danger Room, exit!” Betsy screamed, steps behind her.

Rachel ran to the wall opposite the door and braced her hands against it, panting and shaking as her heart thundered in her chest. “Wh-what...” she whispered hoarsely.

“Ph-pheromones,” Betsy gasped next to her. _A_ _ **lot**_ _of fear pheromones._

 _Was that an attack?_ Rachel wondered.

 _More likely a defensive reflex_ , Betsy shook her head. _Come on_ , she turned back to the door. “Danger Room, open.”

The door opened and Laura’s voice could be heard, a little weaker and shakier than usual, calling “... Please ventilate.”

“ _Invalid command. You do not have sufficient permissions_ ,” the Danger Room answered.

“Danger Room, ventilate area,” Betsy called and there was a sudden gust of air strong enough to ruffle everyone’s hair.

Laura was pressed against the wall and Daken was crouched over her, trying to counter the fear-dump with calming pheromones. They both looked over to Betsy and Rachel. “My apologies,” Daken said.

“Back in the chair,” Betsy said, jerking her head toward the chair in question.

Daken rose to his feet and held out his hand to Laura, who accepted it and went to right her overturned office chair while Daken settled back into his place at the center of the room. “Danger Room, air-curtain surrounding Daken,” Rachel called and a circle of jets sprang up around the chair. _Ready for another try?_ Rachel asked as she and Betsy took up their previous positions.

“Once more,” Betsy said, a note of irritation in her voice.

“Concentrate on my voice. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One,” Rachel counted down again, taking control of Daken’s pulse and breathing rate and cushioning his consciousness while Betsy pushed it down. “Danger Room, ventilate area,” she called and the air in the room vacuumed toward the ceiling once more.

“Danger Room, report: any presence of unusually high human pheromones remaining?” Betsy called.

“ _Negative_ ,” the Danger Room answered.

“Cancel air-curtain,” Rachel commanded and the jets sectioning off Daken stopped. “Monitor Daken’s pulse and respiration. Report any change.”

“ _Confirmed_ ,” the Danger Room said.

Betsy rested a hand against Daken’s head and grimaced. “This is going to take a while,” she sighed and Rachel nodded. The level of psychic resistance Daken had built up around his mind was truly exceptional for a non-telepath, and picking their way past all the mental razor-wire and fortifications was going to be slow going.

000

“You got your beepbeep ready?” Jubilee asked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Ihh!” Shogo answered, grabbing at his pendant.

“Good boy!” she grinned and turned back to the Danger Room door. “Open sesame, Danger Room,” Jubilee commanded and then stepped just inside as the door slid open. “Laura! Come on, kid- breakfast!” she called cheerfully.

Laura looked up. “Jubilee...” she murmured and then glanced back at Betsy and Rachel flanking the infamous Daken. “I... I should...”

“Hey, as fascinating as watching a couple telepaths _stare_ at each other for hours and hours is, I _know_ you’re hungry. So come on! Let’s get us some french toast and hash browns,” Jubilee insisted, putting her hands on her hips.

“... We’re going to be at this a while, Laura,” Rachel said, her voice vague and distracted. “Daken’s skull is almost as hard as Logan’s.”

Laura hesitated another moment and then relented. “... All right,” she said, climbing off her chair and walking toward Jubilee with a brief look over her shoulder.

“Sweet. Danger Room, open up,” Jubilee commanded and the door slid back, letting them out into the hall. She took note of Laura’s distraction and repeated glances back toward the Danger Room. “Y’know, your friends around here have been pretty worried about you,” Jubilee said quietly. “We were all relieved when we heard you’d signed on with Kitty’s team.”

Laura nodded slightly. “... It has not been a good year,” she said in a very soft voice.

“... Yeah,” Jubilee whispered, catching Laura’s hand and holding it as they walked. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“... I do not know the words,” Laura breathed, her fingers curling around Jubilee’s.

“Buh!” Shogo interjected, waving a chubby hand and making it very hard to be moody. He always knew just what to say.

Laura looked at him strapped into the carrier on Jubilee’s back for a moment before asking, “How old is he?”

“Eleven months,” Jubilee answered, grinning over her shoulder at the baby. “He really wants to walk. He can’t balance himself yet, but he wants to move his tiny feet _so much_.”

“He is very cute,” Laura said. “I think you are having fun dressing him,” she noted, eyeing his doggie onsie.

“Babies are _way_ better than dolls,” Jubilee laughed and then sobered. “Listen... I know your old classmates are really going to want to see you, but some of them might ask... stupid stuff... You can just tell them you don’t want to talk about it, but, y’know, if you want to skip it...”

“... I will be all right,” Laura said, nodding vaguely. “... I would like to see them.”

“Okay. Good. There’s also a lot of new kids here. If one of them starts bugging you about... y’know, stuff- just give ‘em your grrr-face and they’ll scamper,” Jubilee said.

“... I do not like my grrr-face,” Laura whispered.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

Laura stopped walking and caught Jubilee by the shoulders, pulling her into a slightly awkward hug. It was the first time Jubilee had even _seen_ her hug someone. She didn’t know Laura did that sort of thing. “It’s all right,” Laura said softly. “I... thank you for not asking me about Murder World...”

“... I’m mad about what that guy did to you, but I’m not scared or anything... just mad... Trigger-you isn’t the real you,” Jubilee murmured, hugging back.

“... Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, do I have any English or Brit readers? I have English (as in England, not 'language-arts') questions for writing Psylocke not-terribly. Is there anyone who would be willing to field a couple of common-knowledge and linguistic kind of questions to help me not make a fool of myself?


	2. Step Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “All right... Now... What I wouldn’t give for a computer search...” Betsy sighed; she’d always hated card-catalogs.  
> “The computer searches were structured after these though, so same principal,” Rachel murmured, walking along the stand and disappearing around the corner. “Author!” she called after a moment.  
> “Author?” Betsy repeated, following after her.  
> “C... O...” Rachel muttered to herself as she walked her fingers through the cards in a long, narrow drawer. “‘ _Cornelius, A._ ’!” she declared triumphantly, pulling out a card and handing it to Betsy.

The noise-level of the cafeteria was impressive. The Jean Grey School was much larger than the New Charles Xavier School. There were dozens of voices all talking at once around the large dining space, and a clatter of dishes and silverware, as well as the sounds of an industrial dishwasher and other large appliances filtering in through the kitchen doors. There were also the regular pops of Nightcrawler’s miniature acolytes constantly moving about the room, stealing food instead of just getting into line. That, combined with the cacophony of scents, put Laura on edge, overwhelmed and nervous.

Jubilee lead her toward the serving line, and just as they were joining the cue, a voice shrieked “ _Laura!_ ” Mercury came dashing through, splashing under, reforming, vaulting over other students and coming to a stop just in time to throw her arms around Laura. “Oh my God, how _are_ you?!” she exclaimed. “What are you _doing_ here? It is so great to _see_ you!”

“... Hello, Cessily,” Laura said, slightly flustered by the abruptness. “I- I am... I am visiting.”

The thumping vibrations in the floor alerted her to Rockslide’s approach; she looked up to see him and Dust hurrying toward her and could hear Surge yelling behind them, “Let her get her _food_ , you jerks!”

“Laura! How’s it going, girl?” Rockslide greeted, cheerfully lumbering over as Mercury let Laura go.

“Laura, I grieve for your losses and for the trials you have faced,” Dust said softly, taking her hands. “I am grateful to see you healthy, and if there is any way that I can help you, please allow me that honor.”

“Thank you, Soorya. Hello, Santo,” Laura said, nodding to each of them. “I am glad to see you. I would like to talk to you more once I have retrieved my meal.

“Sure! Of course! We’re right over there by the windows, see?” Mercury pointed.

“I see it,” Laura nodded.

“We’ll be over in just a minute, guys. But we gotta stop holding up the line now,” Jubilee said, waving them off. “Sorry about the ambush,” she grinned, handing a tray to Laura. “But hey, your friends have missed you.”

Laura nodded, accepting the tray and filling it as she moved along the counter. Her hearing was still slightly sharper than Jubilee’s, and she could hear the things being whispered conspiratorially between children at the tables nearby and in line around them. _‘--X-23! Remember the way--’ ‘Did you see the part where she--’ ‘--and then dive-bombed Hazmat--’ ‘--smacked by that scrap-heap sentinel--’ ‘--face burned off--’ ‘--be, like, on a_ _ **leash**_ _or something?’_

She diligently ignored the comments as she made her way through the meal line and started walking in the direction of her former teammates’ table, but she could see Jubilee giving her a few concerned glances; she must have looked ‘tense’. Two seats were waiting for them at the table between Dust and Surge. Jubilee pulled out the chair next to Surge, squirming to remove Shogo’s carrier and situate him in her lap. Laura settled next to Dust and braced herself.

“Hi, Laura!” Pixie waved, clearly nervous- she was very bad at lying or keeping secrets; having been asked not to reveal the morning’s mission was likely grating on her. She also looked a bit over-caffeinated, apparently because she had decided not to sleep in as Storm had suggested.

“Hey, Laura. Long time no see,” Surge said, giving Laura a casual nod.

“Hey,” Hellion muttered from across the table, not looking away from the screen of a phone he was pretending to be very interested in.

“Y’ missed the memorial thing,” Rockslide noted; it didn’t sound at all accusatory, more as though he was concerned that she hadn’t been told.

“... I’m sorry... Memorials make me uncomfortable,” Laura said quietly.

“That’s okay!” Mercury said quickly, shooting Rockslide a momentary glare. “It was just a thing for the _school_ , y’know? There were a bunch of people you don’t even _know_ and it’s none of _their_ business if you don’t want to deal with it.”

“Sure, and it’s not like you gave a shit anyway. You’re Cyclops’ groupie now, right?” Hellion scoffed and then half a second later he started falling backwards as his chair was apparently yanked out from under him. He hit the floor with a loud curse.

Mercury swooped down out of sight below the table and hissed in a low, furious voice, “Julian, if you are going to be a _shit_ , you can just _leave!_ You have no _business_ and no _right_ to talk to her like that!”

“Oh _fuck off_. She’s with the _junior terrorist league_ now. Shouldn’t she have been _arrested_ on sight or something?” Hellion snapped, shoving Mercury back and climbing to his feet.

“ _Dude_. Not cool,” Rockslide rumbled. “You’re not fooling anyone, dude. You’re just being a dick because she _dumped_ you.”

“Sit your ass down or get the _fuck_ out, dipshit!” Surge snarled. “Nobody cares about your _feels._ ”

“Hey, she’s spent the last year avoiding Wolverine and avoiding taking _sides_. And now when she finally _does_ take a side, she goes over to his _worst enemy’s_ camp and I’m supposed to be all like ‘Oh, _poor_ _Laura_ , you lost your sort-of-dad’? She fucking _betrayed_ him!” Hellion ranted.

“Cyclops was _not_ Logan’s enemy,” Laura cut in as she could hear Jubilee about to start into the argument. “They were having a _fight_. I... I had a fight with Logan as well... I had not forgiven him... When he died, I had not forgiven him... I... regret that.”

There was a relative quiet at the table as everybody stared at her. Laura looked down at her tray and wetted her lips before pushing forward. “Kitty Pryde’s team found and rescued me when I had been captured by a Purifier cell. I chose to stay with them. I... I was tired...” her voice weakened as she spoke. Laura shook herself and took a steadying breath. “Kitty Pryde was one of Logan’s closest friends, and the co-founder of this school. I do not think it was disrespectful to remain with her team.”

“You’re _damn_ right,” Jubilee said and then turned a glare on Hellion. “Wolvie was _thrilled_ when he heard that Laura had hooked up with Kitty’s kids.”

“Maybe Hellion’s just worried that she might’ve _hooked up_ with one of ‘em,” Rockslide suggested.

“ _Fuck_ you,” Hellion snapped.

“Shut up, Santo,” Surge snorted.

“Anyway, I guess I can see how you’d want to re-think joining the _Junior Avenging League_ and put your X back on, since those jokers _clearly_ can’t protect their kids,” Hellion gave an exaggerated shrug.

“You believe that the Avengers are responsible for the deaths of my classmates. That they were negligent and the X-Men would not have allowed it to happen.” Laura rose to her feet and pressed her palms against the table, leaning forward and glaring at Hellion. “ _Forty-five_ children died in less than a week _on this spot._ Are their deaths _that_ forgettable to you?” she hissed.

Hellion jumped to his feet as well and flipped over his meal tray with a snarl before kicking his chair away and storming out of the cafeteria with a loud, “ _Fuck you!_ ”

There were a few moments of quiet before Mercury let out a sigh. “Sorry, Laura. He has more-dickish days and less-dickish days, but he never has not-dickish days anymore,” she said, looking down at her plate and pushing eggs around.

“He’s gonna be all bitchy for, like, a week,” Pixie lamented. “He always gets pouty when somebody calls him on his shit.”

“Yeah, well, if he starts anything again then he can pout all he wants in detention,” Jubilee said irritably, breaking off thumbnail sized pieces of bacon and handing them to Shogo.

“Seriously, he’s just mad that you dumped him. It’s not even about _you_ , it’s about not getting his _way_ ,” Surge snorted.

“I did not mean to hurt him,” Laura said softly, settling back into her chair. “I no longer felt about him as I once did.”

“Then you did the _right thing_ ,” Jubilee said firmly. “That’s _way_ better than just letting a dead relationship fester.”

“He will forgive you in time,” Dust said softly. “He has had difficulty. You were not the cause, merely an easy target for his anger.”

“He’ll get over it. He’s getting out and picking fights more these days, so I figure that means he’s feeling better,” Santo reasoned.

“Oh yeah, when he punched Quire in the face I was like ‘hey, Julian’s back on his game!’” Mercury said with a slight grin.

“That wasn’t _funny_ ,” Pixie protested. “He made him _drop out_. We’re pretty much all _screwed_ now because Julian made _the Phoenix_ drop out.”

“We’re _not_ screwed and Quire dropping out _wasn’t_ Hellion’s fault,” Jubilee sighed. “... He _contributed_ a little, but it wasn’t his _fault_.”

Laura relaxed and ate her meal, contentedly listening to her old classmates relay X-Men and school gossip to her without asking a single question about her activities in the last year. Despite the initial tension and awkwardness, the meal and companionship became more comfortable the longer it went on, and she found herself not regretting the decision to come.

000

There was nothing but pitch black darkness outside of a tiny circle of muddy leaf-litter, with a small figure standing in the middle of it. Betsy touched down and the guide looked up sharply, blue eyes glaring suspiciously at her, framed by Asiatic features. It was unmistakably Daken, but small, maybe ten or eleven years old. He was dressed in traditional, rural garb which looked like it had once been expensive but was now frayed and torn. The boy had an overall disheveled look.

Betsy shifted her appearance, clothing herself in a springtime kimono as she took a step toward the guide and knelt to be close to his eye-level. “Hello. I’m looking for something,” she said calmly.

The child’s eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched. “Go away,” he spat.

“Akihiro,” Rachel called softly and the child turned his glare on her. She’d dressed herself in a conservative Western style dress with a 1950s business-wear look to it. “We are not here to hurt you. We want to help.”

“Somebody hurt you recently,” Betsy said, calling the guide’s attention back to herself. “A doctor. He left four words behind. We need to find those words.”

The child chewed on his bottom lip and looked Betsy up and down, considering her carefully. “What will you give me?” he asked.

Betsy bit back her annoyance. “The words the doctor put in your mind can be used to hurt you. We want to take them out to _help_ you,” she explained.

The child crossed his arms and turned his head away. “I’m not playing with you if you don’t have any money,” he declared.

Betsy resisted the urge to give him a sharp smack, reminding herself that it was a simple subconscious construct with limited responses and no self-awareness. It wanted imaginary money? Fine, give it imaginary money. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small stack of one-thousand yen bills, folded neatly together, and offered it to the child.

He stepped closer, taking the money from her and thumbing through it, counting, then stashed it away in his sleeve and his suspicious glare and businesslike curtness were all swept aside by a brilliant smile of contrived sweetness and charm. He stepped right into Betsy, wrapping his arms around her neck and nuzzling her. “You’re pretty. I like you. I’ll be a good boy for you. I’ll do whatever you say,” he announced, syrupy sweet and utterly hollow.

“Oh...” she heard Rachel murmur a few steps behind, while Betsy clenched her teeth and felt like retching as she realized what she’d just theoretically paid for.

“Do you want me here or are we going somewhere?” the child asked, still feigning affection and cuteness with well practiced expertise.

“Akihiro...” Betsy disentangled his arms and held him back a foot, hands on his shoulders. “There was a doctor here recently. His name was Cornelius. He put needles in your veins and probably cut you. Do you remember?”

The child frowned, a steely look in his eyes. “He didn’t pay.”

Betsy pursed her lips and nodded. “He’s a criminal. He has been caught and punished.”

“He should be executed,” the child said immediately, the corners of his lips curling upwards, radiating vicious excitement.

“... He was,” Betsy said.

“Good.”

“... Yes... But when he hurt you before, he left four words. Do you know where they are?” Betsy asked carefully.

The child seemed to think and abruptly library shelves sprang up on either side of them, reaching several stories into the air and appearing miles long in either direction. It was a fairly straight forward metaphor for a language center, although that still left the problem of navigating it. “Maybe it will be in the card-catalogue?” the boy sounded uncertain.

“Can you show me where that is?” Betsy asked.

The child nodded, taking her hand and leading her down the aisle. “Pretty big...” Rachel noted, following a few paces behind. “Do you think each book is a word or a group of related words?”

“Couldn’t guess,” Betsy shrugged, looking up at the shelves. They were solid wood, fixed shelves, not the thin, steel, adjustable ones of a modern library. More mid-century aesthetic. Given the guide’s appearance, Betsy wondered if anything in the mindscape would reflect the years of Daken’s adulthood. “He’s a polyglot though. Makes sense for this place to be vast.”

Fortunately, Daken’s subconscious didn’t force them to abide by realistic physics, and they reached the end of the miles-long book cases in minutes. There were more rows, stretching on and on out of sight. The child led Betsy past the ends of them, along what was sometimes a wall, sometimes ambiguous shadow, until they turned into a room containing a card catalog that would have put the National Library’s old one to shame.

“Oof,” Rachel groaned. “Well... start by finding English, I suppose,” she sighed, glancing over a row of catalog cabinets labeled in Cyrillic.

“Do you know where English is?” Betsy asked the child.

“There,” he pointed to a large stand of cabinets.

“All right... Now... What I wouldn’t give for a computer search...” Betsy sighed; she’d always hated these things.

“The computer searches were structured after these though, so same principal,” Rachel murmured, walking along the stand and disappearing around the corner. “Author!” she called after a moment.

“Author?” Betsy repeated, following after her, the child still firmly gripping her hand.

“C... O...” Rachel muttered to herself as she walked her fingers through the cards in a long, narrow drawer. “‘ _Cornelius, A._ ’!” she declared triumphantly, pulling out a card and handing it to Betsy.

“That... was surprisingly simple,” Betsy admitted, raising her eyebrows and taking the card. “Mm. Or not,” she frowned, looking over the card and finding herself unable to make heads or tails of the description and directions printed on it. She glanced down at the child and offered it to him. “Can you find this one for me?” she asked.

“Of course,” the boy agreed, looking at it for a moment and then pulling her back toward the larger room. They walked down the shelves a ways and then into another aisle. They walked a mile or two before the child slowed his pace, glancing between the card and the shelves. “Here,” he said, dropping Betsy’s hand and running a ways further to catch a ladder and pull it over. He climbed up a few yards above Betsy and Rachel’s heads, pulling a book off the shelf and sliding back down to present it to Betsy.

Its binding had a modern, digital printed laminate, unlike all the leather and canvas covers around them. Betsy flipped it open, the title page read ‘ _Paradise by A. Cornelius_ ’. The next page, and every other sheet through to the end, held the same four words, neatly centered on the right-hand page. Second on the list was ‘ _arquebus_ ’.

“This is it,” Betsy said.

“You’re sure?” Rachel asked.

Betsy nodded. “Laura knew his sleep-word,” she said, handing the book to Rachel. “Hold it up for me.” She manifested her favorite sword as Rachel held the book toward her at arm’s length. Betsy sliced it neatly in half and the book flickered and faded as she glanced down at the child, who was watching the card disappear from his hands before looking back up at her.

“Well, once we got past the castle defenses, that was a bit easier than I thought it would be,” Rachel noted. “Are we done then?”

“... Not quite,” Betsy said, running a hand over the child’s hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch, all sweetness and false innocence that surely inspired pedophiles to empty their wallets. She grimaced, pulling her hand away, and then swallowed back the surge of disgust and knelt down again to address him on his level. “There’s something else I would like to see,” she said.

“Yes?”

“Where do you keep the things that you hold most dear?” Betsy asked. The mask of sweetness slipped, wary distrust showing through and the child took a half step back. “I only want to see. I promise I won’t take anything. You said you would be a good boy for me, remember?”

“Betsy...” Rachel sounded nervous.

“... You won’t take anything?” the child asked, frowning uncertainly.

“Not a thing,” Betsy agreed.

“... And you won’t break anything either?”

“Of course not. I only want to see. And to give you something,” Betsy said calmly.

That perked his interest. “What?”

“Something special,” Betsy said, smiling. “Will you show me?”

The child bit his lip for a moment and then nodded. The bookshelves disappeared and were replaced with the sliding paper panels of a traditional country house. He took Betsy’s hand again and started leading her up the hall. “Betsy, what are we doing?” Rachel hissed next to her ear, catching onto her shoulder and walking close enough to trip her.

“I have an idea,” Betsy whispered back.

“Is it a _totally unethical_ kind of idea?”

“Trust me, love.”

The child paused and dropped Betsy’s hand to pull back a door, then reclaimed her hand and led her inside. Betsy’s feet faltered slightly as she started to take in the room. She nearly summoned her sword before realizing that the figures surrounding them were static mannequins. The central figures were settled on brocade pillows atop a glossy, lacquered platform. On the left, Betsy recognized the gleaming figure of Logan’s body in its gruesome adamantium cocoon, now wrapped in a black and gray formal kimono, the pattern of which, she noted, matched his X-Force uniform. Kneeling primly beside him was a beautiful Japanese woman who bore a strong resemblance to Daken, dressed in elegant red silk, her face delicately painted. Her throat was sliced and lower abdomen ripped open in a sick parody of a cesarean section.

“Oh God...” Rachel whispered.

The other figures in the room weren’t tiered like a doll-stand, but seemed to be divided onto one side of the room or the other. Betsy’s eyes settled on Laura, standing proud and straight-backed on the right side, just in front of the doll platform. She was dressed in a strange but beautiful mix of Japanese and haute couture fashions and hung with elegant jewelry. She looked like a princess or young queen, wearing a few million dollars and making it seem like less than she deserved.

While Betsy stood transfixed a few feet inside the door, Rachel stepped around her, moving to the Laura-doll and then slowly wandering to examine the others. “Is that- is this _Johnny Storm?_ ” she asked, baffled.

Betsy tore her eyes away from Laura to glance at the one Rachel was looking over, noting that she seemed to be correct. The Johnny-doll was dressed casually in jeans and a loose over-shirt, open in the front to let a blue T-shirt with the ‘4’ logo peak through, and wearing his distinctive smile as seen on magazine covers the world over. Not two feet away from him was Bullseye, wearing Hawkeye’s uniform with the hood pushed back to show his true identity, and grinning despite the sai punctured through his chest. Betsy grimaced in distaste, glancing over a small handful of other mannequins standing on the right side of the room. The faces were entirely unfamiliar, nobody she’d ever seen- probably dead before she was even born, and all of them sporting signs of a violent death, many with a dual puncture wound over the heart that would no doubt perfectly match Daken’s claws.

She turned to look at the left side. There was a looming figure, more than a head taller than the rest, which at first she took for Sabertooth, before realizing that, while it was an enormous, terrifying man who looked a bit like a grizzly and a bit like a lion, the hair was much longer and the features were wrong for Creed. And he was even larger. Romulus? There was a Japanese woman with her torso ripped apart, holding an infant with gray, lifeless skin. Standing with an arm around her waist was a man with a large portion of his face destroyed by gunshot. Nearby was a woman with long blond hair and a sour expression, her right arm dripping blood where the hand was missing.

“A wax museum of, what, people important to him?” Rachel asked, starting to move along the left side.

“A doll collection...” Betsy corrected.

“... Well, it looks like Laura was right about her status,” Rachel noted softly. “Although I wonder if she’s quite understood the scope... He’s got a pretty strong fixation forming here.”

“... Let’s hope she’s up to it. I think it may be too late for take-backs,” Betsy murmured. She was getting distracted. This wasn’t what she had been looking for. She turned to the child and knelt down again. “Your dolls are very beautiful, Akihiro, but do you have other things that are important? Besides the dolls?”

The child frowned, looking confused.

“What are you looking for?” Rachel asked.

“Core values,” Betsy answered. “Where do you keep... power, wealth, control?” she asked the child.

“There,” he said, pointing.

Betsy looked up and found the gesture directed at the Romulus-doll. “... Characters can embody concepts,” Rachel noted with a shrug.

“... Right,” Betsy nodded and rose to her feet, studying the layout of the room more carefully. Closer to the doll stand was more esteemed. Laura’s dress was brushing the edge of it. There had to be some difference in right and left too. Romulus was on the left side, Logan’s side. Itsu’s side hosted Laura and Johnny Storm, more fortuitous to be certain... but then there was _Bullseye_... “Akihiro, what is that one?” Betsy asked, pointing to the Bullseye-doll.

“The artist,” the child said easily. “Expression. Skill. Beauty.”

Betsy exchanged a horrified grimace with Rachel. But that did seem to confirm that the right side of the room was the ‘good’ side. The closer to Itsu, the more sacred. “Okay...” Betsy ran a hand through her hair and then set her feet apart and held her hands in front of her, concentrating. An amorphous blob formed in her hands and gradually began to take shape. Her mind sculpted pudgy arms and legs, fingers and toes, a round face with vague, indistinct features. She colored it gold and then summoned a brush and wrote across its belly. “Ko... Tanjyou... nijyuusai,” she murmured.

“What is it?” the child asked, standing on tip-toes and catching her arm.

“It’s a new doll for your collection,” Betsy said, crouching slightly to show him the baby-doll.

The child frowned. “I don’t like it,” he pouted.

“But it will make Mother happy,” Betsy said, walking toward the doll stand and kneeling down just in front of it, kowtowing to Itsu and then rising and carefully leaning out toward her without stepping on the platform.

“No! Don’t touch her!” the child shrieked grabbing onto Betsy’s obi and trying to tug her backward.

“But Mother is sad, Akihiro,” Betsy said soothingly, looking down at him. “Her baby was taken away before she got to hold him. This will make her happier.”

The child looked torn and slightly panicked, he began trembling. After a few tense moments, he let go. Betsy let out a breath and reached again, holding the baby-doll against Itsu and folding the mannequin’s arms around it. The arms stayed where she set them as Betsy stepped back, the baby-doll securely cradled against Itsu’s chest. “See?” Betsy said, kneeling next to the child again. “Doesn’t she look happier?”

The child drew a shuddering breath and then nodded faintly. Betsy wrapped her arms around him and the child let himself be picked up and carried from the room. Rachel slid the door closed behind them, looking thoughtfully at Betsy. “Akihiro...” Betsy said softly, swaying gently and holding the child a few moments longer before setting him down on the wood floor. “It’s time for us to go now.”

The child clung to the front of Betsy’s kimono for a moment after she let him go, staring up at her. “... Will you come again?” he asked quietly, and the affected sweetness from earlier was gone, leaving a hollow, haunted look in its absence.

“... You were such a good boy today, maybe I’ll come visit you again,” Betsy lied and leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. The child nodded and let her go as Betsy straightened up. “Goodbye, Akihiro,” Betsy said.

“... Goodbye,” the guide answered without looking at her. Betsy turned to Rachel, who nodded back, and they walked together toward where the hallway faded into blackness. “... You’re never coming back...” a small voice whispered behind them.

Betsy half-turned, looking back up the hall, but it was empty now. “... Come on. He’s only an echo... You can’t fix this,” Rachel said, curling her arm around Betsy’s.

“... I know,” Betsy nodded.

000

X-23 was standing still and silent, studying the holo-statue of her ‘father’, and at least half of everybody else in the atrium was staring at her and gossiping to each other. They weren’t even being all that _quiet_. It was faintly nauseating. Even when they _were_ too quiet to hear, Evan knew that you could always _feel_ it when you were being whispered about. He bit his lip, considering it for a few minutes, before walking slowly over and standing next to her.

“If- if you want to be alone, I understand, I’ll go if you want,” Evan stammered awkwardly. “But I- I just wanted to say, I didn’t know him as long as you, and obviously I wasn’t as close to him, but Wolverine made a big difference in my life. I mean, this school just to start with, but also--”

“When you were abducted,” X-23 said calmly before turning to look at him. “You are Genesis.”

Evan started slightly and shifted nervously on his feet. Her gaze was unnerving, penetrating. “Er, yeah.”

“... Who do you blame?” she asked.

“I- I’m sorry?”

“Who do you blame for what you endured?” X-23 clarified.

“Um...” Evan scratched his head, frowning. “I guess... There were a bunch of guys there... Sabertooth and that gross, skinless British guy, and Wolverine’s... um...” he hesitated, feeling a slight prickle of panic, because he had no idea what X-23’s relationship with Wolverine’s son might have been.

“... I was curious,” X-23 said calmly, studying him. “Were you ever told why you were abducted?”

“I... um,” Evan shoved his hands into his pockets and looked down. “The- the fat guy was a really high-level telepath or something. They said he was supposed to take over my mind after I put on Apocalypse’s armor-suit and make me destroy the school and- and...”

“That’s nonsense,” X-23 said flatly, turning to look back at the holo-statue.

“... Excuse me?”

“You would not be powerful enough. Even in Celestial armor,” X-23 explained, looking straight ahead of her. “You are not Apocalypse. You may have his DNA, but your body has not been augmented by Celestial nano-tech as his was. You do not have his power... I wonder whether Shadow King and the Skinless Man were fooled as you were. It seems unlikely they would have participated if they were aware of Sabertooth’s end goal. I do not think they would have seen it as worthwhile.”

Evan bit his lip and shifted, trying to tamp down a swell of annoyance. Who was _she_ to talk like she knew what had happened? She wasn’t even _there_. “Look, I’m not sure what you heard, but--”

“He made a video,” X-23 said, looking at Evan again, and his irritation couldn’t stand up to the force of her stare.

“W-what?”

“Sabertooth made a video. Of Logan killing Daken. Because that was the point of all of it,” X-23 said quietly. “... He chose you because Logan would believe the intent, even if it was a faulty plan. Because he wouldn’t look for another reason underlying it.”

He stared at her, feeling suddenly cold and very heavy. That was exactly what Sabertooth had said at the end, wasn’t it? Evan had pushed it aside, willfully forgotten, because somehow that made it even worse, that he wasn’t the real target, just a pawn. But he’d never known about the video, that really did seem to solidify the intent; Sabertooth hadn’t just been trying to save face by claiming a consolation prize as his victory. “... Why?” Evan whispered.

“... Sabertooth was obsessed with proving that Logan was not a better man than him,” she said in a slightly quieter voice than before. “... Daken was aware of the charade and participated believing that Sabertooth would be proven wrong... He was very ill, dying, and wished for proof that he was cared for.” X-23 looked away, her gaze not falling on the holo-statue this time but lower, gazing at a shrub near it. “He sought attention in an unacceptable manner.”

‘Unacceptable’? That was one word for it. “... Did you know him? Before he...”

“... Somewhat,” X-23 said, nodding. “I met him long enough last year to realize that there was something wrong with him... I think that Logan would have been able to help him, but he dedicated his efforts to his students instead of his son.”

Her words felt like a punch. Evan thought that maybe he should have felt angry, defensive, but instead he felt mostly numb with a slight hint of guilt. X-23’s voice was so neutral, he couldn’t tell if she was meaning to accuse _him_. Should he leave? Was she dismissing him? “... Do you want me to leave you alone?” he asked, feeling a little helpless.

“If I have made you uncomfortable, do not feel obligated to stay,” she said unhelpfully. Her gaze lifted and she looked back at the holo-statue again. “... I am not angry anymore,” she said, her voice quieting again. “I wish that I had forgiven him. I wish that I had spoken to him.”

“... I’m sorry,” Evan said softly.

“... If you mean to express sympathy, then thank you,” X-23 said, still in the softer tone. “But if you are apologizing, please do not. You have nothing to be sorry for.” She turned to look at Evan again. “... We have much in common.”

“... Yeah, I guess so,” Evan agreed, smiling weakly at her.

X-23 half turned suddenly, seeming to look up but her eyes were unfocused. “... I am being called. Thank you for your concern, Genesis.”

“Y-you can call me ‘Evan’,” he said, feeling awkward again. “I mean- ‘Genesis’ is my hero-name or whatever, but I’m just- you can call me ‘Evan’.”

She nodded and held out her hand. “I’m Laura,” she said.

“Nice to meet you,” Evan shook her hand and smiled again.

000

An arm shot between the elevator doors as they were starting to close, causing them to slide back again, and Hellion stepped into the cab, glowering at Laura. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms as the doors again slid together and the elevator began to sink. Laura considered him. “You are angry... Do you feel that I should have spoken to you alone first? Before the others?” she asked.

“ _Christ_ , Laura, don’t you think you at least owe me--”

“I do not think I owe you anything,” Laura interrupted and he stared at her, looking furious and shocked. “You are not entitled to everything that you want, Julian. My needs and desires are not less legitimate than yours, and I will not apologize for them. But I did not mean to hurt you, so I will apologize for that: I’m sorry.”

Hellion remained silent for a few more seconds, too angry to parse his words, before snarling at her, “You _frigid bitch!_ ”

“I suppose so,” Laura said, stepping out of the elevator. “You are not supposed to be here. You should return to your classes.”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Hellion snapped, following after her. “Tell me _why_. _Why_ did you suddenly decide to give me the cold shoulder? What did I _do?_ ”

She paused and looked back at him. “... You are a bully,” she said. “When I was younger, I thought you were confident and assertive. A leader. But when I understood more, I came to realize that you build yourself up by putting others down. That is not confidence or leadership. That is bullying.”

“... You are _such_ a--”

“A bitch. You’ve said,” Laura crossed her arms and gave him an unimpressed stare. “You should leave now. You have classes and I have things I must do as well.”

“Why are you _here?_ ” Hellion demanded, still following when Laura turned to continue down the corridor. He could have meant the school or the sublevel the Danger Room was on, either would have made sense.

“It doesn’t concern you,” Laura said.

“Well I’m _concerned_ ,” Hellion snapped.

“And yet you are not _entitled_ to know,” Laura rounded on him again and glared. _Psylocke, Hellion is following me,_ she thought loudly.

“You are--” Hellion started and then paused, eyes glancing at nothing in particular as he was addressed mentally. “Why _should_ I?” he demanded, and then a few moments later he let out a wordless sound of frustration and turned away, heading back toward the elevator. “Go to _hell_ , Laura,” he spat as he went.

Laura sighed and walked the rest of the way to the Danger Room. The door opened for her and she entered to find Psylocke and Rachel still flanking Daken in the dentist’s chair, and he was still unconscious. “We thought it would be best if you were here when we woke him up,” Psylocke explained as Laura approached.

“That, and Betsy has something she’d like to _tell_ you,” Rachel said. Psylocke cast her an annoyed look, to which Rachel raised an eyebrow. “ _Don’t_ you?”

Psylocke sighed. “I made a side-trip while we were inside,” she said, crossing her arms.

Laura looked at her sharply, frowning. “What did you do?”

“...I made the concept of children and childhood sacred to him,” Psylocke said. “In theory, he will now have an iron-clad aversion to harming anyone under the age of twenty, and he may very well feel compelled to protect them if he sees a child in danger.”

Laura considered that carefully. “... I see,” she said. “... You did not harm him?”

“No. I destroyed the trigger-words and added children to the list of things precious to him. Then we left,” Psylocke said.

Laura nodded. “Alright. Thank you for telling me.”

“We can wake him now,” Rachel said, taking a step back from the chair. “I think we should probably use the air-curtain again.”

“Agreed,” Psylocke turned back to the chair and folded her arms, calling out, “Danger Room, air-curtain surrounding Daken.”

Laura listened to the jets spring up in a circle around Daken, disrupting the air between him and the rest of the room in case returning to consciousness triggered another reflexive release of pheromones. She stood facing Daken just outside of the ring, as the shorter hairs framing her face whipped themselves around erratically. Daken remained still in the chair.

“You can stop pretending, we all know you’re awake,” Rachel said after a minute and then addressed the room. “Danger Room, report: any presence of unusually high human pheromones present?”

“ _Negative_ ,” the Danger Room replied.

“Cancel air-curtain,” Rachel said and the jets stopped.

Daken opened his eye and sat up, looking at Laura. He tilted his head to the side slightly. “You stayed to watch?” he asked.

“Not the whole time,” Laura shook her head. “It took four hours for them to navigate your psychic defenses. I went to breakfast with Jubilee and looked at the memorial they put in the atrium.”

“Oh? Is it nice?” Daken asked, swinging his legs to the floor and rolling his shoulders stiffly as he stood.

“It is... modern.”

“Well that’s damning,” Daken rolled his eye and then turned a charming smile to Psylocke. “Thank you for your assistance, Miss Braddock,” he nodded to her and then to Rachel, “Miss Summers.”

“You’re welcome,” Psylocke replied and stretched her arms over her head. “I think am going to need some breakfast and a recess too, before I can tackle Laura.” She let out a sigh, dropping her arms and pressed her lips together for a moment. “I’ll talk to Storm about accommodations as well. For now though- Danger Room, run program: Lake House Seven,” she called.

The room transformed, leaving them standing on the porch of a traditional Japanese house. The deck was built out over the water with lilies dotting its calm surface. “I programmed this for a place to relax. It’s Lake Biwa,” Psylocke said, gazing out at the artificial horizon. “I can bring you something to eat if you’re hungry. It’s cafeteria food, the kinds of things teenagers like. The kitchen will be gearing up for lunch now, so burgers, pizza, various fried things. Do you have a preference?”

Daken’s posture was casual, his shoulders relaxed, thumb hooked through a belt loop, but he was giving Psylocke a very suspicious look. “... Anything is fine,” he answered softly.

“Right,” Psylocke nodded, brushing a hand through her hair and looking tired. “Laura, I... think I might need a nap. Let’s plan on doing you this afternoon,” she said.

“All right,” Laura agreed.

“Call if you need anything,” Rachel said, following Psylocke toward where the Danger Room’s exit sat on the end of the deck.

After they, and the exit, had disappeared, Daken knelt on the edge of the porch and reached down to poke at a lily. It dipped under his touch and water washed over his fingers. He lifted his hand, studying the illusion of damp. “Interesting. That’s a few steps beyond modern technology. Alien?” he asked.

“Shi’ar,” Laura confirmed, settling herself on the wooden planks and gazing out at the lake.

“... Psylocke was behaving equivocally,” Daken noted, shaking his hand and sitting back, seeming to relax.

“You have been badly injured,” Laura pointed out. “And she was present when you died and did nothing to stop it, perhaps encouraged it. It is possible she feels some amount of guilt.”

“Or _pity_ ,” Daken sneered. “Insult to injury, I suppose.”

“You will not remain so pitiable,” Laura said calmly and her peripheral vision caught the movement of Daken turning his head to look at her. “We needed to get away from Mystique. We needed to remove the threat of these words. The next thing we need to do is see to your injury,” Laura said.

“... You have a to-do list,” Daken said quietly.

“I do,” Laura agreed.

“And how do you plan to ‘see to’ my ‘injury’?” Daken asked.

“We will find a doctor,” Laura replied.

Daken sighed. “I think we’ve had this discussion before,” he said.

“But you did not look so _pitiable_ then,” Laura said, turning to look at him.

Daken raised an eyebrow and smirked slightly. “... Oh Laura, are you being _manipulative?_ Perhaps I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I am taking advantage of what resources we have,” Laura said.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor note of something I didn't think of until I was halfway through writing the first scene: Dust doesn't eat in the cafeteria because she doesn't remove her veil in front of men. I forgot that, I'm pretty sure it was remarked on in Academy X. Rather than pulling her out of the scene, I decided that she probably eats early and then sits with her friends while they eat, because she likes to be sociable.
> 
> Daken's mental-guide/avatar was somewhat inspired by [PepperPrint's _Dreamscape_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/710163).
> 
> I'm not sure there will ever be an occasion to explicitly explain the doll collection in-fic, so for the curious, Logan and Itsu are arranged in a hina-doll style. So first, yes this is rather effeminate, Japanese boys don't traditionally have doll collections (although in this day and age, anime-miniatures tends to be more of a male hobby). That's deliberate, I see Daken's character as very slightly gender-queer, not to the extent of any identity-issues, but in having a few notably effeminate nuances to his personality and behavior here and there. Second thing, dividing the room left and right, I chose those sides because the positions on a hina-doll stand are fixed, the princess/empress doll is always on the right and the prince/emperor doll is on the left; thus the left side of the room became Logan's side. Every doll in the room is somebody who made a significant impact on Daken, but the left side is for people who also betrayed him.
> 
> Referencing Bullseye as representing art- he's the 'I am an artist, death is my canvas' kind of crazy, and if you note Daken's killing-behavior pre-Dark Avengers and post-Dark Avengers, there is a difference. Being invisible and leaving no trace of himself when he kills was a big part of his back-story in Origins, and then in the self-titles he starts giving a definite flair to his work. I've been toying with the notion of Bullseye introducing him to the concept of 'murder should be beautiful'. I want to write an art-teacher-Bullseye fic, but I haven't quite figured out how.
> 
> Psylocke wrote 'Child: birth - 20' on the babydoll.
> 
> If anybody's like 'air-curtain, what?' that's a method sometimes used in open doorways (I've mostly encountered it at grocery stores, and not in several years) where they make a wall of little air-jets across the doorway; they're not blowing the air hard enough to hurt at all, but you definitely notice it. It keeps the cold air on one side separated from the warm air on the other side without a solid structure in between. Kind of cool, but I'm betting automatic doors are just a lot more energy efficient, so air-curtains aren't really used anymore.


	3. The Ethics of Declawing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I am _not_ wearing this,” Daken said firmly.  
>  “Put your jacket on,” Laura sighed.  
> “This is _not_ my jacket.”  
>  “Betsy said you’d probably want some shades too,” Jubilee said, holding out a folded pair of cheap, drugstore sunglasses.  
> Daken let out a sound of deep discontent, slinging the jacket over his shoulder and accepting the sunglasses. “... Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth.

The Danger Room doors opened onto a very pretty lake scene and Jubilee hummed curiosity, walking inside with a tray of lunch-stuff. Laura was curled up on her side in the warmth of the fake sunlight on a deck over the water, her back to Jubilee and her chest rising and falling slowly. Jubilee raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the fact that Laura hadn’t woken and sat up instantly when the door opened, not to mention the fact that she was sleeping with her back toward an entrance.

And the oh so infamous Daken was sitting on the edge of the deck with his legs hung over the side, apparently indifferent to the water soaking through his jeans. His head was turned so that he could stare at Jubilee as she entered. If he had hackles, they would be raised. She could see the corners of his lips pulling away from his teeth as he seemed to be fighting a reflexive snarl. Jubilee rolled her eyes. “Yes. You’re right. I’m a vampire,” she sighed. “Are you gonna come at me now or what? Honestly, I’m a little impressed, Laura tried to jump me before I even got in the door the first time she saw me after I was turned. You’ve got restraint, dude.”

Daken stared at her frostily, not moving except for the occasional blink. “... You smell like baby,” he said quietly, eye narrowing a bit more. Well that was an interesting accusation, not really one Jubilee had expected in the same context as the ‘you are a dangerous, frightening creature’ conversation. But then, Daken did know a thing or two about being baby-napped by dangerous, frightening creatures.

“I smell like live, healthy, happy baby because I’ve got my own little bundle of joy and he is in _no_ danger from me,” Jubilee glared back at him.

“... I see,” Daken said, staying rigidly still and not letting his eye off Jubilee for half a second.

“She has perfect control of herself,” Laura murmured sleepily. “There have not been any incidents since she returned to the X-Men after her rehabilitation.”

“I see,” Daken repeated.

“Can I come over there now, or are you gonna freak out?” Jubilee asked, tilting her head and giving him a bored look. “I brought you a snack.”

He nodded slowly and Jubilee walked across the deck, keeping her steps short and slow. She crouched and set the tray down on the deck next to him, hesitant to just hand it to him because she wasn’t sure how well he could balance it with one arm. She glanced at Laura and saw her yawn, eyes half-closed and sleepy.

“... You’re the friend who took Laura to breakfast?” Daken guessed, studying Jubilee.

“She is our foster-sister. Jubilation Lee. Jubilee,” Laura said.

“... Ah.”

“And that pisses you off,” Jubilee noted, watching Daken redirect a glare from her out toward the water, ignoring the lunch tray so as to snub Jubilee’s offering. She stood back up, looking at Laura again and feeling both pleased and curious. It was the first time Laura had described her with familial words. She’d never really used any family kinds of words to describe anyone, not even Logan, always opting for the long explanation when describing their genetic relationship. She wondered if Laura’s change in vocabulary was prompted by Logan’s death, or if it was for Daken’s benefit. She’d said ‘our’, not ‘my’, verbally forcing the claim of kinship on Daken as well, and also reasserting her own connection to him.

“Look,” Jubilee said, turning back to confront Daken’s pout-face, “when I met Logan, he didn’t have any memories... I guess even if he _had_ , he still wouldn’t have known you were alive, but he didn’t know _anything_ when he started looking out for me. I was just some familyless, homeless, angry kid who kept blowing stuff up, sometimes on purpose. The X-Men picked me up, and I guess Logan and me got along because neither of us had anybody or anything. He was never super dad-ish with me, I was already a teenager when I met him, he just... he was there for me. That’s all.”

“I don’t particularly care,” Daken said, feigning disinterest.

“Jubilee has been a good friend to me,” Laura said softly, and Jubilee could see Daken’s face twitch slightly, Laura’s statement getting more reaction than any of _her_ ramble. “She has made me feel comfortable, that I can speak to her freely without being judged.”

“Well good for her,” Daken sneered. “She must be very _sympathetic_. Though I think she lacks the experience to actually _understand_ , and thus would have no grounds on which to judge you _anyway_. I know the kinds of things you’ve done, I’ve done the same. I don’t judge you because I _do_ understand.”

“You judge _constantly_. You are _very_ judgmental. You are judging me right _now_ ,” Laura retorted, pushing herself up a little on her arms.

Daken looked sour for a moment and then his face smoothed out and he chuckled. “You’re right.”

“The point of my Lifetime Original Movie crap is that I didn’t _steal_ your dad. I just found him lying around, and I think _I_ adopted _him_ more than the other way around,” Jubilee crossed her arms and tilted her head. “So you’ve got no legitimate gripe with me. Don’t be pissy.”

“And Logan may be gone, but Jubilee is also part of _my_ life now, and she is not going to go away,” Laura added.

“... Fine,” Daken said, face neutral, which Jubilee had a feeling meant he was trying not to scowl.

Jubilee debated for a second before saying, “And y’know, if you need me, _you_ can call me too.”

Daken turned his head so that he could glare at her out of his remaining eye. “You can _leave_ now,” he hissed.

Jubilee bit her tongue so as not to laugh in his face. “All righty then. Enjoy your brunch,” Jubilee tossed over her shoulder as she turned and headed for the end of the porch. “Danger Room, can I get an exit?”

As the door appeared and opened to let her out into the hall, she could hear Laura sighing at Daken, “You are _rude_.” Jubilee laughed.

000

“Don’t you _want_ me to be helpless?” Daken asked, wading around in the shallow water by the deck, apparently very intrigued by the fullness of the simulation.

“Why would I want that?” Laura demanded.

“Like de-clawing a cat. Now I can’t hurt anything,” Daken replied easily. “There’s no doubt your X-Men prefer it this way.”

“De-clawing is cruel and should be illegal,” Laura said, sitting with her legs crossed on the edge of the deck. “With your level of experience, I do not think your _are_ helpless even now, and certainly not harmless, but regardless, I do not wish for you to remain maimed.”

“Why?” Daken looked up at her.

“Because I care about you. I do not want you to die, and I do not want you to be miserable either,” Laura said, curling her hands around her ankle and watching Daken uproot a lily to examine. “And I shall need you whole if we are to enact your plan.”

Daken frowned and looked up at her. “What plan?”

“To take back our lives and our selves. To find the people who have our DNA and take it away from them,” Laura said.

Daken raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Are we really going to do that?” he asked.

“Yes,” Laura nodded. “But there is something else we must do first. Someone we must find before it is too late.”

“Who?”

Laura took a breath to answer and then stopped as the Danger Room’s door appeared and slid open. Storm entered and the door shut and vanished behind her while she walked across the deck toward Laura, giving a curious look to Daken standing in the water. “What are you doing?” she asked, with no accusation in her tone.

“Being impressed,” Daken replied, studying Storm carefully, and Laura could see him taking deeper breaths than necessary, scenting her quietly, inconspicuously. “Is this real water? Did the room flood itself?”

“No. Everything is hard-light hologram,” Storm replied. “The technology was a gift from Professor Xavier’s ex-wife.”

 “It’s astounding,” Daken said, snapping the stem of the lily short and tossing away the root, before wading back to the deck and reaching toward Laura. She held still and let him tuck the lily into her hair, then he dragged himself back onto the deck. “So does the water simply disappear if you ask it nicely then?” he asked, pulling his sopping jeans and muddy feet up onto the wooden platform.

“Danger Room, cancel all water and mud not in the lake,” Storm called, and Daken’s clothing and the deck became clean and dry once again.

“I assume it does people simulations as well?” Daken asked.

“Of course.”

“How much trouble do you have with students- or staff- using your Danger Room _inappropriately?_ ” he asked, smirking up at Storm as he seated himself casually by the edge of the deck.

Storm sighed and rolled her eyes. “Students aren’t allowed to use the Danger Room without supervision,” she said.

“And staff?” Daken raised an eyebrow, smirk becoming a little more pronounced.

“I don’t regulate or check up on my colleagues’ activities,” Storm crossed her arms.

Daken looked like he was getting ready to pursue the topic further. “Daken,” Laura admonished softly and he let it go. “Did you need something, Storm?” she asked, turning herself around to put her back to the water.

Storm knelt down, nodding and folding her hands on her lap. “I wanted to ask about what you plan to do next,” she said. “Are you going back north?”

Laura shook her head. “Not yet. I think Cyclops will be reluctant to give Daken asylum, and there are things we still need to do.”

“What things, Laura? Let us help you,” Storm said, her voice kind, encouraging rather than commanding.

“There were matters Shogun has brought to my attention, reminded me of, that need to be addressed,” Laura said quietly. “It concerns Daken and me, and it will be best addressed quietly. I do not wish to involve the X-Men.”

Storm’s brow drew in and her lips pressed thin; she was worried. “Would it have concerned Logan?” she asked softly.

“... Yes,” Laura nodded.

“Then I am _concerned_ , Laura,” Storm said.

“You were sleeping with him? The past few months?” Daken broke in.

Storm glared at him. “... I have known Logan as long as I have been an X-Man. We were close friends and cared about each other deeply for _many years_. You will _not_ \--”

“I’m sorry, my verbiage was disrespectful,” Daken apologized, cutting her off. “What I meant to ask was, were you the last great love of my father’s life?”

Storm still looked annoyed, though the paraphrasing seemed to mollify her somewhat. “Yes,” she answered.

Daken nodded, his gaze upon the water. “I’m sure you brought him as much happiness as anything in this world. I hope he didn’t aggravate you too greatly in return.”

Storm sighed. “He was a frustrating man. But I think I must be drawn to frustrating men.” She looked back at Laura. “And you are very much like him, Laura. You think you need to do things alone but you don’t.”

“I will not be alone,” Laura said, glancing at Daken momentarily. “... These are matters of personal importance. I do not wish to do them as an X-Man,” she looked back at Storm, meeting her eyes evenly. “Where we have to go next is not dangerous. And I promise to return here again very soon and tell you more then.”

Storm still looked unhappy. “Just tell me that you are not going out to take down this ‘Paradise’ organization all by yourselves,” she asked.

“No. Not yet,” Laura shook her head.

“... You’re going to confront Mystique?”

“Soon, but not yet. Where we are going next is not dangerous,” she said again. “I am not lying.”

“... All right. I believe you,” Storm said, climbing back to her feet. “Please tell me if there is _anything_ we can do to help you.”

“I did. And you have,” Laura said quietly.

Storm smiled down at her with fond sadness. “... Thank you for calling me, Laura.”

“Thank you for listening,” Laura said.

“Always,” Storm promised. “... I have a class soon. Betsy and Rachel will be in a bit later. Are you all right here for now?”

“We will be fine,” Laura nodded.

“All right. I’ll speak with you again this afternoon,” Storm said, walking down the deck as the Danger Room’s door appeared and slid open.

Laura waited until it had finished closing before turning to look at Daken. “You made her uncomfortable. _I_ could have told you that she was Logan’s lover.”

“You smelled it, didn’t you?” Daken asked, raising an eyebrow.

“... Yes. I noticed this morning, while you were unconscious,” Laura nodded.

“Hm,” Daken braced his hand on the deck and leaned back against his arm. “... Will be interesting, I suppose.”

000

As afternoon classes kept the student body well occupied, Betsy and Rachel made their way down to the subbasement and the Danger Room. Laura and Daken seemed to have found the shogi set in the cottage and brought it out to the porch. “Who’s winning?” Rachel asked as she and Betsy strolled in.

“Daken,” Laura said. “I am better at chess.”

“I could probably beat you at chess too,” Daken said, moving a piece forward.

“I am very good at chess,” Laura retorted.

“Experience,” Daken argued.

“Do you want to finish your game, or are you ready to give this a go, Laura?” Betsy asked.

“I am ready,” Laura nodded, climbing to her feet.

“Do you like the scene?” Besty asked, nodding toward the lake. “We can keep it.”

“It is nice,” Laura agreed with a small shrug.

“All right. Danger Room, move this wall back a tatami-width and add chair thirty-eight here,” Betsy called, gesturing at the floor. The wall of the house retreated and the dentist chair appeared on the deck.

Laura settled herself in the chair as Daken picked up the board and moved further down the deck, giving Betsy and Rachel room to position themselves on either side of Laura. “... Are you going to turn your backs to me now? Not even bothering to shackle me or anything?” he asked.

“Perhaps I installed a psychic block to prevent you from attacking anyone wearing an X,” Besty replied.

“That would have been prudent, but you’re lying,” Daken noted, settling down a short ways away, knees drawn up and arm rested across them.

“Are you asking me to tie you up?” Besty cast him a dispassionate look. “That’s not really what I’m into.”

Daken grinned. “You have a sense of humor? Wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I used to,” Besty replied, turning back to Laura. “All right Laura, same as before. I’m going to push you down and Rachel is going to keep you steady.”

“Concentrate on my voice,” Rachel instructed calmly. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.” Laura’s mind resisted slightly but gave in around four and she slipped into a hypnotic trance with far less excitement than Daken had. “Kinda glad we did Daken first. This feels like a cake-walk now.”

“... Still a tough nut,” Betsy said, peeling carefully at Laura’s mental fortifications as her subconscious tried to curl in on itself. “Not scrambled like Logan, but she has the same natural resistance.”

“Well I’m just happy there’s no _minefield_ this time,” Rachel shrugged and then drew a slow breath through her mouth and exhaled through her nose.

“Do you always _chatter_ this much?”

“ _No_ _audience commentary_ ,” Betsy snapped. “I need you here, love, I’m going to hurt her,” she called, feeling the fabric under her mental fingers about to tear.

Rachel gently soothed Laura’s agitated defenses, easing back a particularly bellicose layer. “There’s a girl. You’re safe... You’re safe...” she murmured, putting a hand against Laura’s hair.

000

They arrived in a sterile, white room with a tiled floor and a drain in the center. A very young labrador was sitting on the floor, looking up at them. “... Huh,” Rachel tilted her head, considering the puppy.

“Interesting,” Betsy said, kneeling down in front of it. “... Hello. I’m looking for something.”

The puppy stood up and barked, wagging its stubby tail. Betsy reached out and patted its head, it barked happily again. “There was a doctor here recently. His name was Abraham Cornelius, and he hurt you,” she said calmly. The puppy dropped down, lying with its chin flat on the tiles between its paws and its tail fallen. “He left behind four very dangerous words. I must find them in order to protect you.”

There was a soft sound behind her and Rachel looked over her shoulder to see a manila envelope lying on the floor just in front of the door. “Betsy,” she called, and Betsy followed her gaze and then stood and walked over to pick it up. “What does it say?” Rachel asked as Betsy slid a collection of papers out of the sleeve.

“... Nothing. They’re blank,” Betsy said, frowning. Then the door opened. “Ah,” she pushed the papers back into the envelope and tucked it under her arm.

The puppy barked and ran out into the hall beyond. “Talkative, isn’t he?” Rachel noted, hurrying after it. They chased it up the hall, and spotted it disappearing into another room as they rounded a corner. When she entered, Rachel caught sight of Laura, eight or nine years old, crouched in the middle of the room, cradling the puppy in her arms. “Lau--” she stopped short, biting her cheek as she realized the puppy’s head was on the floor by Laura’s feet.

Betsy made a quiet, unhappy sound and then walked slowly toward the child-Laura and knelt. “Hello. Do you know where I will find the words which Doctor Cornelius left in you?” she asked.

Laura stared at her blankly.

Betsy reached down and picked up the puppy’s head, then pressed it to the neck of the body cuddled in Laura’s arms. With a potent thought, Betsy reanimated the puppy avatar; it began squirming and licking Laura’s face. She looked down at the dog and then set it on the floor, where it wiggled and wagged its short tail and gave another bark. “Will you help me find the words Doctor Cornelius left?” Betsy asked.

Rachel was looking at the door this time, waiting, when the envelope was slipped under it. She picked it up and peaked inside momentarily to confirm that it was also blank. Then the door opened. The puppy ran out again and Laura chased after it, with Rachel and Betsy close behind her. They ran through more labyrinthine hallways before arriving in a large operating room with a computer that took up most of one wall. By the time they reached it, the puppy was dead again, lying on the tile floor. Laura walked over and dropped down, picking up the disassociated head and body and clutching them against her.

“Fix the puppy,” Betsy said quietly, walking past Laura to examine the computer.

Rachel squatted down next to Laura and held out her hands. “May I see?” she asked, to which Laura just stared at her. Rachel laid her hands on the puppy and brought it back to life again. Laura silently hugged the puppy as it started wriggling and making noise once more. Rachel stroked a hand over Laura’s hair and then stood up again, watching Betsy pick away at the control panel of the computer. “Well, you wanted a computer search,” Rachel noted.

“Mm, yes, but now I’m thinking that it is very easy to destroy a single book within a library. Stabbing a computer may have much more of a ‘ruin everything’ effect,” Betsy said. “I have them.”

“All right,” Rachel nodded, gazing at the large screen. “Maybe try dragging them to the trashcan?”

“That would just bury them deeper in her subconscious,” Betsy sighed.

Rachel hummed to herself, considering it for a while and then walked over next to Betsy. “Perhaps the cartoon approach?” she suggested, reaching out and grabbing at the bottom word on the screen. Her fingers hooked around the first letter and she tugged, the word reluctantly peeled away.

“You’re a treasure, Rachel,” Betsy smiled, pulling over a chair and climbing on it to reach the higher words. They all peeled away with a thin, rubbery texture and Rachel gathered them by one end and held them dangling from her fingers as Betsy attacked them with a psychic sword. “Glorious,” she smirked watching the cut pieces evaporate.

The trigger-words destroyed, they turned back to look at the young Laura. Her puppy was dead again. “... I think the puppy is always going to die,” Rachel said softly.

“... Yes, but I’m not _leaving_ it in that state,” Betsy went over and knelt in front of Laura again, fixing the puppy one last time.

000

The telepaths had been silent for nearly twenty minutes, their pulses slowed to a pace that suggested sleep, as they stood stock still on either side of Laura, staring at nothing. It had ceased being interesting and become boring before the first five minutes were up. Daken had laid himself back on the deck, staring up at the artificial sky and noting that the sun hadn’t moved an inch all day. The scene was stuck in a perpetual state of late afternoon.

Aside from the koi that could be seen making slow paths through the water, and which Daken had felt brushing his legs when he stood in it, there were the sounds of frogs and distant fowl, and he had caught sight of dragonflies and water-skippers moving around in the lily pads, but they were apparently programmed to stay away from the house, and an insect had not so much as flown across the porch. It was a carefully manicured and perfected evocation of the natural, not a realistic representation. Like the sort of ‘nature’ one might find in a Disney park. Its subtle artificiality lent a certain grotesqueness to it all.

There was a rhythm to it too. None of it was random because computers, even futuristic alien computers, don’t do random. The cicadas’ song was about four minutes long, repeating endlessly. The gentle lapping of water was on a loop a little less than two minutes. The frogs were about five minutes. The birds were on the longest loop, almost ten minutes. Daken started to drift, his eyes closed against the artificial sunlight, lulled by the repetitive singing of cicadas. He was half asleep when his ears caught a quiet change in the rhythm. He sighed, his eyes fluttering open, taking a moment to process what had pulled him back to alertness; the telepath’s hearts were speeding up again.

He pushed himself back to a sitting position, yawning, and watched the women start to stir. Psylocke shifted her feet and rolled her shoulders, shaking off the stiffness from having stood perfectly still for a prolonged period. The red-head stretched her back and pushed her fingers through her hair. “Ready?” she asked softly.

“Mhm,” Psylocke nodded.

A moment later, Laura’s pulse sped up and she opened her eyes. “Are they gone?” she asked, sitting up and looking at Psylocke.

“Yes. You were very cooperative, Laura, thank you,” Psylocke nodded. “It took less than a half-hour.”

“They chattered like it was a knitting circle,” Daken observed.

“How would _you_ know? Have you ever _been_ to a knitting circle?” the red-head retorted, resting her hands on her hips and raising an eyebrow at him.

“It is still early then?” Laura asked, pushing herself out of the chair.

“Just after two,” Psylocke answered.

Laura nodded. “Then we should go,” she decided. “Thank you, Psylocke. Thank you, Rachel,” she said.

Psylocke didn’t look particularly happy about that. “Would you like to be dropped off somewhere?” she asked.

Laura frowned, she glanced at Daken and he shrugged back at her. “... We need to go to Manhattan,” she said.

“Easy,” the red-head said. “We don’t even need to prep a plane for that.”

“Thank you.”

“Jubilee is saying ‘ooh ooh me! I want to drive!’ I trust that will be all right?” Psylocke asked.

Daken wrinkled his nose even as Laura replied, “I would like that.”

“All right. Let’s head to the garage before classes let out. Storm is going to want to see you off though,” Psylocke said and then addressed the room. “Danger Room, end program and cancel lockdown,” she called. The lake scene dissolved back into the sterile, brushed steel surround. “Did you need anything else before you go?” Psylocke asked, starting toward the door.

“I had a jacket,” Daken noted.

“Mm, that’s right, you did,” Psylocke nodded. “I’m not sure it made it back from Taipei. I’ll ask Jubilee to grab you something.”

Laura followed after Psylocke and Daken followed her, while the red-head waited to take up the rear and keep him in sight. The fact that they apparently intended to let Daken _walk_ through the school was equal parts offensive and disturbing. Either they were regarding him as so devastatingly handicapped as to have become a total non-threat, or the telepaths had done something to him while he was out. The first possibility was merely insulting, the second was downright frightening. Had they removed Shogun’s ability to control him and replaced it instead with new, secret control words of their own?

Psylocke turned to her left in the hall, looking as though her attention was largely elsewhere, probably embroiled in a telepathic conversation. Laura started to follow her and then whipped around to the right. “ _Julian!_ ” she snarled, launching herself at a boy leaned against the wall next to the door and grabbing him by the front of the shirt as Daken was stepping out into the hall. “You are _not_ supposed to be here!”

“ _Damn_ it, Keller, I know for a _fact_ you have calculus right now,” the red-head groaned.

The boy glared back at Laura with some obvious ‘hurt feelings’ before his eyes flicked to Daken and widened. “... What the fuck?” he said softly. “You- you’re- Isn’t _this fucker_ supposed to be _dead?_ What the _fuck_ are you _doing_ with him, Laura?”

“That is _none_ of your _business_ ,” Laura snapped. “You have no _right_ to hound me like this.” Well that wreaked of ex-lover-turned-stalker.

“ _Fuck_ you! What the _fuck_ are you doing bringing that _psychopath_ into the school? And why are _you_ two _okay_ with it?” he demanded turning his glare to the telepaths.

“Has a rather stunted vocabulary, doesn’t he?” Daken sneered.

“Shut your _fucking_ mouth, _psycho!_ What gwagnathuh?”

“That’s enough for now, Mister Keller,” the red-head said, grabbing the boy by the sleeve and gesturing for everyone to move along. “If you _behave_ yourself, you can have your speech-center back later.”

The boy made a few more angry sounds that weren’t words as Psylocke sighed, giving him an annoyed look. “You’ll be seeing some detention for breaking school security regulations and skipping class, Julian. Try not to make it worse by wasting any more of our time. Garage now, everyone, chop chop,” she waved a hand, striding up the hall.

“Who’s this kid?” Daken asked, walking next to Laura. He could hear the boy make a growling sound at him, apparently his ability to speak had been scrambled, but not his ability to understand speech.

“Hellion. You arrested him in San Francisco,” Laura said, glancing over her shoulder at the red-head and the seething teenager she was towing along. “You don’t remember?”

“We picked up a dozen or more squawking brats at that contrived little ‘rally’ and my memories of the day are a bit _fuzzy_ since Frost smashed a large portion of my skull,” Daken shrugged.

“He was one of the leaders, I think,” Laura said. “And definitely one of the most powerful fighters present.”

“What does he do?” Daken asked, looking back at the boy again, who seemed to brighten wickedly and raised his mechanical hands, a feral grin curving his lips.

“ _Don’t_ even _think_ about it or I will drop you _right here_ ,” the red-head snapped, giving his arm a rough jerk. The boy made a wordless grumble and dropped his hands back to his sides.

“He is telekinetic,” Laura replied. “His fine-motor skill was less than Psylocke or Rachel last I knew, but he is one of the strongest as far as brute force goes.”

“Ah yes,” Daken nodded. “I think I remember catching a few love-taps from him.” He cast the boy a grin over his shoulder. “Well done, little Hellion. You might have had me, if I gave a damn about broken bones.”

The boy raised an eyebrow and pointed a metallic finger at the stump of Daken’s missing arm, winking his left eye and smirking. Daken turned his attention forward again, ignoring the brat. They arrived at a freight elevator and Psylocke held a hand against the door sensor as she waved everyone inside.

 _Daken_.

Daken froze, trying to decide which telepath was prodding him, he turned toward Psylocke and found her making eye-contact as she punched a button on the elevator controls.

 _During the type of psychic exploratory-surgery we did today, the patient’s mind, assuming they are willing and cooperative, usually tends to provide a guide to their subconscious._ An image flashed into Daken’s mind of himself, as he’d looked when he was in Nara, while Psylocke continued to stare him in the eye. _Yours asked to be paid in exchange for being ‘a good boy’, and became very affectionate after I gave him a mental-construct of cash._

Daken gritted his teeth and glared at her. Was this taunting or pity? Either was equally repugnant.

 _This is a suggestion_ , Psylocke ‘said’. _You should tell Laura about that period of your life. She would want to hear it._

Romulus had survived as long as he did by being paranoid and redundant, and he had made sure that Daken was properly trained to consciously resist telepathic intrusion as well as having the psychic minefield rigged throughout his mind as passive defense. Daken threw his mental weight against Psylocke’s mind, expelling her violently. She gasped and dropped to her knees, clutching her head in pain.

“Betsy!” the red-head dropped angry-boy and went to crouch by Psylocke as the elevator doors were opening onto a hanger area.

“When I consented to let you ‘operate’ on me, that was _not_ an open invitation to come and go in my mind whenever you please,” Daken said in a low voice, smelling blood before a drop slid down from Psylocke’s nose and over her lip.

“ _Daken!_ What did you do?” Laura demanded, glaring at him.

“J-just gave me a swift kick in the rear, that’s all,” Psylocke mumbled, voice wavering as she wiped at her nose.

“ _Keller!_ ” the red-head snapped suddenly, twisting to glare.

“I will _cut them off_ , Hellion!” Laura snarled, whipping out her claws as the boy held his metallic hands poised in the air, glowing faintly with energy. He let out an angry series of gibberish, hands still aimed at Daken. “I am not _afraid_ to hurt you if your force me to, Julian,” Laura hissed at him.

“Julian, _stop_ ,” Psylocke said, giving him a stern frown as she climbed back to her feet. “I’m _fine_ , and _you_ are flirting with some very serious consequences if you do not stand down _right now_.”

The boy growled and dropped his hands, glowering at Daken.

“Hey!” a voice called out across the hanger and it was soon accompanied by the scent of vampire as little Miss Jubilation Lee came into view out of a door along one wall. “Let’s take red-car!”

Laura grabbed Daken’s wrist and pulled him out of the elevator, toward the Mustang convertible that must have been ‘red-car’. “You should _not_ have hurt her,” she growled at him.

“She was in my _mind_ without _permission_ ,” Daken shot back.

“What was she doing?”

“ _Talking_ to me.”

“That is _hardly_ offensive,” Laura glared up at him.

“She _should_ have stayed out of my mind and my _business_ ,” Daken snapped.

“Whoa, what are we being pissy about now?” Jubilee asked, striding out to meet them next to the car and tossing a jacket at Daken.

“He disapproves of being addressed telepathically,” Laura explained as Daken held the jacket by the collar so he could get a good look at, and thoroughly abhor, the large, yellow X motif.

“I am _not_ wearing this,” Daken said firmly.

“Put your jacket on,” Laura sighed.

“This is _not_ my jacket.”

“Betsy said you’d probably want some shades too,” Jubilee said, holding out a folded pair of cheap, drugstore sunglasses.

Daken let out a sound of deep discontent, slinging the jacket over his shoulder and accepting the sunglasses. “... Thank you,” he said through gritted teeth.

Jubilee started giggling. “You’re such a drama-queen. I _love_ it,” she said.

“Are we _leaving_ now?” Daken demanded.

“Storm wanted to say goodbye,” the red-head telepath said, strolling up. “Classes are just getting out. She’ll be here momentarily.”

Daken glanced past her, back toward the elevator, where Psylocke and the boy were glaring at each other and occasionally gesturing, apparently caught up in a silent argument, their lips unmoving. Daken’s attention was pulled away by a sound like a small explosion and the tang of sulfur, which left Storm and Wagner standing nearby.

“Betsy tells me you’re leaving already, Laura,” Storm said, walking over to stand in front of Laura.

“I would like to move quickly. We have much to do,” Laura nodded.

“I understand,” Storm said softly, squeezing Laura’s shoulder. “Don’t hesitate to call on us, Laura. You still have family here.”

“Thank you, Storm,” Laura dipped her gaze a little.

“Safe journeys, liebchen,” Wagner said, upper canines showing against his blue lips as he smiled.

“Thank you, Nightcrawler. Thank you Rachel,” Laura said, nodding to each of them before calling across the hanger. “Thank you, Psylocke.”

“Be good,” Psylocke called back. “Look after each other.” Daken shot a glare at her, but she had already turned her attention back to her argument with the boy.

“All right then, let’s get this show on the road!” Jubilee said, pulling open the driver’s door on the convertible as Laura went around to the passenger’s side. Daken slipped the drugstore sunglasses over his ears and pulled the back door open, sliding across the seat to sit behind Laura and watch Jubilee start up the car and press the button to retract the canopy.

As the top retreated, Laura pushed herself into a semi standing position, poking her head above the windshield. “Please give my thanks to Pixie as well,” she asked.

“I will,” Storm said, smiling. “Goodbye, Laura.”

“Goodbye.” Laura dropped back into her seat and pulled her seatbelt on.

“Tell Hank I’ll be back before dinner,” Jubilee called, shifting the car into gear as a door on one side of the hanger rolled open, showing a driveway beyond.

“Beast is watching Shogo?” Laura asked as the car _finally_ rolled out and made its way toward the road.

“Yeah. Shogo loves it when Uncle Hank baby-sits. Lots of upside-down time,” Jubilee said with a grin. “and Hisako will probably give him a hand.” Laura hummed an acknowledgement. “... You don’t like Hisako,” Jubilee glanced at her for a moment before returning her eyes to the road.

“I do not dislike her. She makes me feel awkward,” Laura said.

“Hey. You’ve made friends with Kitty and me, don’t go letting Wolvie’s littlest sidekick make you uncomfortable. She’s nice. Get to know her,” Jubilee said.

“Perhaps,” Laura leaned an arm against her door. “But I do not plan on spending a great deal of time at the Jean Gray School.”

“You might be able to talk her into a wacky summer misadventure,” Jubilee suggested.

Laura made a noncommittal sound and went quiet.

“... I have a question,” Daken said after a minute, watching the side of Jubilee’s head.

“Yeah?” Jubilee asked, tilting her head to hear him better, while keeping her eyes on the road.

“How are you driving around in daylight?”

“Oh. Right. Light-bender amulet. It kind makes the sunlight go around me,” she said. “I’m still a lot more comfortable at night, and my vision’s a lot better, but my light-bender lets me move around and keep up with stuff and raise Shogo like a normal person.”

“Ah.”

“D’you guys want to hit a MacDonald’s or something on the way? It’s been a while since breakfast,” Jubilee asked, glancing at Laura.

“... Yes. That would be good,” Laura agreed.

“Awesome. I love the smell,” Jubilee sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to eat a burger again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During psychic-surgery, I picture Betsy as surgeon and Rachel as nurse.  
> Ungh... I wrote a super-long note last time, and this time I'm totally drawing a blank. Eh, I guess it is what it is? Also veering off the previous chapter-naming convention because we are still finishing up step-two of Laura's epic plan. Next chapter we can get on to step-three, I promise.


	4. Step Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valeria hopped to her feet and grabbed Laura’s hand as she stood. “I’m gonna aid and abet the ‘mutant menace’!” she announced cheerfully, pulling her out the door and back toward the lab as Susan followed behind them. “Dad!” Valeria called as they reached the lab. “I’m aiding and abetting!”
> 
> Doctor Richards glanced at her, a small smile playing across his lips. “Are you now?” he asked.
> 
> “Yep. What have you got?”

Jubilee pulled the car up to the curb outside Grand Central and let it idle for a moment as she dug in her pocket. “Okay, take this and don’t forget to call me,” she instructed, handing Laura a roll of twenties.

Laura looked at the money in her hand for a moment and then shook her head. “This is too much. I don’t need this much,” she said.

“Then bring me the change when you’re done,” Jubilee grinned at her. “It’s not _my_ money, it’s from the school’s ‘somebody did a dumb’ fund.”

“I wonder how many schools need to allocate regular funding specifically to repairing the damage caused by idiocy,” Daken mused, pushing his door open and stepping onto the sidewalk.

“It’s also been called the ‘Wolverine went off half-cocked’ fund. So I figure you guys have got as much right to the bail-out as anybody,” Jubilee offered a shrug.

“Thank you, Jubilee. I will see you again soon,” Laura promised before getting out of the car.

“I’m counting on it,” Jubilee smiled up at her. “Keep me in the loop, okay?”

“All right,” Laura nodded. “Good bye.”

“Bye kid. See ya, Daken,” Jubilee waved. Daken made a noncommittal sound and shrugged, to which Jubilee snickered, before putting the car into gear and pulling back out into the street.

Laura put the roll of twenties into her pocket and looked up at Daken, who had covered his shoulders with the X-Men jacket despite his earlier griping. He looked back at her and gave a half-shrug. “It’s your show, Imouto. After you,” he said.

She nodded, pleased by the epithet, and turned to start down the sidewalk. Daken moved to her right side, and they walked the two blocks to the Baxter Building in companionable silence. Daken hung back slightly, just barely outside of the camera’s view, as Laura pressed the intercom button by the main door and waited. A few moments later, Susan Storm-Richards’ face appeared on the screen and brightened instantly. “ _Laura! How are you?_ ” she asked.

“I am in good health, thank you, Doctor Storm-Richards” Laura said. “I needed to speak to Doctor Richards.”

“ _He’s leading a class right now, but hang on, I’ll be right down,_ ” Susan said.

The screen went dark again and Laura took a step back. She glanced at Daken. “I'll bet you she curses when she sees me,” Daken predicted.

“I don’t think she curses,” Laura said. “I have never heard her curse.”

A few minutes later, the tinted glass door opened and Susan appeared, smiling brightly for a moment until she caught sight of Daken and her face dropped into a look of shock. “... Oh my God.”

“Blaspheming is cursing,” Daken said.

“It doesn’t count. It is not profanity,” Laura said and then turned to Susan with a serious look. “Doctor Storm-Richards, Daken has followed me here at my request and I can vouch for his behavior.”

Susan nodded slowly, her eyes wide, and then stepped back, waving a hand for them to come inside. Once the door was shut behind them, she turned to Daken again, anger visible in her eyes, and unclenched her jaw to speak. “You faked your death again?” she asked in a low, dangerous voice.

“He did not,” Laura answered before Daken had the chance to make Susan angrier. “He was dead for almost ten months. Two months ago, his body was pillaged from its grave and he was resurrected to be used as a weapon by an enemy of the X-Men.”

“‘Weapon’ is oversimplifying,” Daken murmured.

“No it isn’t. You’re just vain enough to _think_ so,” Laura retorted.

Most of the anger drained out of Susan’s scent as she turned to look at Laura again. She believed Laura; she would have doubted anything Daken said. “... And... why did you need to see Reed?” she asked.

“Daken, take off your jacket,” Laura requested, glancing at him.

Daken appeared to consider arguing for half a second before settling himself and tugging on the hem of his jacket as he shrugged it off his shoulders. Laura heard Susan draw a sharp breath when she saw the stump of Daken’s missing arm. “We have been attacked several times in recent days. Daken has been hit the worst and I think in his current state, it is unlikely he can survive another encounter with any one of the parties pursuing us.” Daken shot her a glare and then looked away, momentary offense subsiding as she finished, “I will not lose him too.”

Susan nodded again, Laura could smell Daken’s discomfort as Susan looked him over slowly. “... Who’s pursuing you?” she asked.

“... Mystique is likely searching for us now. I don’t know her goal. Sinister took Daken’s arm and his eye,” Laura said, listening to Daken grit his teeth and shift, agitated, angry that she was laying his weakness bare before Susan. “The creature that damaged his healing factor was, I believe, created by Doctor Abraham Cornelius, who was conducting experiments to create an artificial healing factor when he and Logan killed each other.”

Susan’s eyes got a little bit wider with every word and her hand had moved over her mouth. Her eyes shown with a look of horror and a slight dampness, not actually crying but emotional. She was trying to look through the polarized lenses of Daken’s sunglasses even as he pulled the jacket back over his shoulders, hiding his injuries again, attempting to disguise himself in a cloak of strength. “... Let’s go up to the bio-lab. The Future Foundation should be wrapping up for the day soon. I’ll snag Reed for you.”

“Thank you, Doctor Storm-Richards,” Laura said, nodding.

“Laura, I would love it if you called me ‘Susan’,” she said, giving Laura a slightly strained smile as she led them to the elevator.

000

A dozen and one children and a dragon came spilling out of the lecture hall into the playroom, in search of sandwich crackers and apple slices. Leech paused momentarily to hug Sue’s waist as she tried to move upstream through the stampede; she patted his head and he let go to rejoin the herd while she made her way into the room where her husband was still standing in front of the whiteboard, looking thoughtfully at the new equations written by various hands and in many colors of dry-erase ink.

“Reed, something’s come up,” Sue called.

He glanced at her and frowned slightly, taking in her expression. “What’s wrong?”

Sue shook her head. “You’re going to have to _see_ this.”

“All right,” Reed nodded, following as Sue turned and headed back out of the hall and into the playroom, which had quickly become a raucous gallery of clamoring voices and the occasional excited shriek.

She’d stared to move in the direction of the elevator when her eyes caught on Johnny, his lap claimed by Valeria while Onome and Artie seemed to be regaling him with an expose on tadpoles. It had become more common than not in the last month for Johnny to find his way to the playroom in the afternoons. He’d seemed to take a more active interest in the school after the loss of his powers and ‘career’, and Sue was pleased to see that it hadn’t diminished when he had made his triumphant return to the world of heroing.

“Hang on,” Sue murmured at Reed, making her way across the room and laying one hand on her brother’s shoulder and the other atop her daughter’s head. “Sorry kids, I need to borrow Johnny for a little while,” she said.

Valeria looked up at her with a slight frown. “You’re agitated,” she noted.

“Just a little,” Sue said, picking Valeria up and setting her on her feet. “It’s nothing too serious.”

“Don’t worry, guys. I’ll catch you later,” Johnny cast a grin to the children as he stood up; Artie projected an image of a casserole and broccoli laden dinner plate, tilting his head to the side in question. “Sure, dinner. See you then,” Johnny agreed, trailing after Sue as she led him and Reed down the hall to the elevator. “What’s up, sis?”

Sue sighed, running her hands through her hair. “I only have half an idea. It’s really just... it’s not going to mean anything until you see it,” she said, shaking her head.

“Okay, _cryptic_ ,” Johnny snorted, following her into the elevator and leaning against the wall.

“Laura says she’s being targeted,” Sue said, shaking her head.

“Laura?” Reed asked, instantly worried. “It’s not because--”

“I don’t think it has anything to do with Murder World,” Sue cut him off, because she didn’t want to think about that travesty a moment longer than she had to. “At least I can’t see any reason Mystique or Sinister would care about that.”

“Mystique and Sinister?” Johnny grimaced, exiting the elevator and walking alongside Sue and Reed to the bio-lab. “What, are they throwing a contest for who’s the creepiest X-Men villain?” He let out a humorless one-note laugh as he shouldered through the door, looking back at Sue and Reed. “Shouldn’t Shaw and Sabertooth be in the nominees too?”

“Haven’t you heard? Sabertooth’s Mystique’s favorite toy these days. Where one is, you’ll generally find the other as well,” Daken called flippantly from where he was lounging in an office chair next to Laura, still on her feet and she looked to be still on edge as well.

“Oh...” Reed whispered.

Johnny’s mouth opened slightly and his face went a few shades paler as he turned around and froze, staring at the other dead-man in the room. Then his pallor was suddenly replaced with an angry flush. “ _You son of a bitch!_ ” he snapped, surging across the room.

“Johnny!” Sue went to grab him and missed by an inch.

Laura was already in front of Daken, brandishing her claws and snarling. “You will _not_ touch him.”

“It’s been a _year_ you _bastard!_ What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you?! You think you can just _walk_ back in here and be all _‘psyche!’?_ ” Johnny shouted.

“Oh, like _you’re_ one to complain about death’s revolving-door policy,” Daken sneered. “Fucking _hypocrite_.”

“You-” Johnny’s face got a little redder as he sputtered. “You were _getting back_ at me? What is _wrong with you?!_ ” He made a wordless sound of fury, looking nearly livid enough to try getting past Laura. “I can’t- I just can’t believe I _fell_ for it _again!_ I should have _seen_ it!”

“Johnny, he _didn’t_ fake his death,” Sue cut in quickly. She caught her brother’s arm just above the elbow and amended, “This time.”

“W-what?” Johnny glanced back and forth between Daken and Sue, looking lost as his fury ebbed.

“I don’t remember being dead,” Daken said in a musing voice. “Just drowning and then coming to. But given the amount of time which elapsed between those events, I suppose I must have been dead.” He gave a casual shrug and added, “The waking up was _far_ more painful.”

“... How?” Johnny asked, his voice small and colored with more emotion than Sue had expected.

“It doesn’t matter.” Daken looked away.

“ _How_ matters a great deal,” Reed corrected, giving Daken a stern, wary look.

“... Not anymore,” Daken said, a note of petulance coming into his voice.

“ _How_ you were brought _back_ ,” Laura interjected, twisting to look at Daken now that she was apparently satisfied Johnny wouldn’t be attacking him. “Not how you died.”

“... Apocalypse. Celestial magic-science or whatever,” Daken said quietly. “They jammed a ‘life-seed’ into my corpse and then followed it up with a ‘death-seed’. I haven’t decided which hurt more.”

“You were one of the horsemen...” Reed said, nodding and tapping his chin. “That fills in a few gaps...”

“I brought him here because he was attacked last week,” Laura said to Reed before glancing back at Daken. “Daken, take off your jacket.” Daken glared at her through his sunglasses, not moving, and Laura turned to him fully, putting her hands on her hips and returning the glare. “Take _off_ your _jacket_ , Daken,” she repeated in a low growl.

Daken’s expression came dangerously close to a pout. Sue had to bite down on her tongue and try very hard not to let out a laugh. She marveled even further as Daken again complied with Laura’s orders, pushing the X-Men jacket off his shoulders to let it fall inside-out over the back of the chair and then pulling off his sunglasses and throwing them peevishly at the floor. The body language reminded Sue of Bentley when he was in need of a nap, and she bit down on her tongue again, swallowing her startled amusement at the display.

“Oh God...” Johnny whispered when he saw the injuries.

“His healing factor has been damaged to the point that it seems almost to be slightly reversed,” Laura said, turning back to Reed. “He is healing slower than a baseline human. When he is cut, the bleeding does not stop for a very long time.”

“How did it happen?” Reed asked, moving closer and walking a circle around Daken, who glowered into space, his demeanor still resembling a six year old more than a grown man.

“A creature attacked us. It latched onto Daken and seemed to draw energy out of him. It did not draw blood or damage his skin, but afterward his healing factor was inoperative,” Laura explained. “I interrupted the attack... I believe the creature would have killed him if it had been allowed to finish what it started.”

“And do you know where this creature came from?” Reed asked, rummaging through cabinets and coming back with a phlebotomy kit.

“I believe it was created in a laboratory by Abraham Cornelius, one of the geneticists who worked on the Weapon X project,” Laura said.

“Make a fist,” Reed murmured, scrubbing at Daken’s arm with an alcohol wipe and then pushing the needle into his vein and snapping a collection vial into place. “How did you lose the arm? And eye.” he asked.

“Sinister,” Daken answered, voice quiet and sulky. “... He moved too fast to see... I wasn’t expecting that.”

“I imagine that would be rather surprising, yes,” Reed agreed, nodding. “Sinister was involved with the Weapon X scientist?”

“No. He was stealing Logan’s remains,” Laura said.

Reed glanced up at her because Daken was refusing to look at him. “... He succeeded?”

“Storm and a small strike-team of X-Men successfully retrieved them,” Laura replied.

Reed nodded. “Good.” He plucked the needle out of Daken’s arm, pressing a cotton ball down in its place as he juggled three vials of blood in his other hand. “I’ll start running a few different analysis now but it will take a little while.”

“How long is a ‘while’?” Johnny asked.

“An hour or two,” Reed said, starting up various machines around the lab and feeding the vials of blood into them.

“Great,” Johnny walked around Laura, who gave him a warning look, and grabbed Daken by the arm. “Then _you_ are going to take this opportunity to tell me _everything_.”

“You almost sound like you _believe_ that,” Daken noted with a smirk, rising to his feet and letting Johnny drag him toward the door.

“Yeah, well, I’m a damn sucker,” Johnny rolled his eyes, tugging Daken along.

“That’s what makes you so adorable,” Daken hummed as he was pulled out of the lab.

There was a moment of quiet as Laura stared at the door, looking puzzled. “What’s wrong, Laura?” Sue asked, resting a hand on her shoulder.

“... Daken likes him,” she said, frowning. “That is... odd.”

Sue felt herself smile as Reed let out a small huff of a laugh. “John’s a charmer,” he noted.

“Daken is not usually charmed,” Laura said, tilting her head slightly.

“You can tell that he’s sincere?” Sue asked.

“He’s never sincere,” Laura sighed, shaking her head. “... I can tell that he likes Johnny. But I cannot tell why. It seems... incongruous.”

Sue curled her arm around Laura’s shoulders and gave a little squeeze. “The kids have been asking about you a lot. Come on, they’d love to see you again.”

“All right,” Laura nodded and then glanced at Reed. “Doctor Richards, Daken would rather get himself killed doing something foolish than admit how vulnerable he is and ask for help. But I appreciate this. More than I can express.”

Reed was quiet a moment, going still as he looked back at her. “I didn’t realize you were close,” he said.

“... I have only just begun to understand how he was conditioned,” Laura shrugged very slightly. “There are... things I recognize in him that Logan did not see, and which led to him making incorrect assumptions that widened the rift between them.” She let out a small, soft sigh. “I have made Daken my responsibility.”

“That shouldn’t have to be your burden, Laura,” Sue said, worried.

Laura looked up at her. “If I am the one who can help him, possibly the only person who can, then I should,” she said, then looked away again. “Nobody can understand what was done to him and what he has done as well as I can... Daken is my brother and I will take care of him.”

As entirely logical as Laura’s use of the word ‘brother’ was, it completely blindsided Sue.

000

Being hugged by children was very odd but did not inspire any particular feelings of anxiety. Perhaps it was because they were so non-threatening. Physically, anyway. Valeria Richards’ ability to cause trouble was on a par with any of the world’s most notorious super-terrorists, but her physical body was quite ordinary for a four year old girl. “Mommy’s worried,” she whispered, using the hug as cover to converse with Laura below her mother’s hearing. “Are you in trouble?”

Laura shook her head. “She’s worried because I brought my brother here with me. She does not trust him,” she replied quietly.

Valeria frowned as she let Laura go, looking puzzled. “You have a- oh, you mean Daken. Of course,” her expression smoothed out and she nodded. “That makes sense.”

Laura tilted her head a little as she looked at Valeria, surprised. “You’ve met Daken?” she asked.

“No. Franklin sort of did once,” Valeria shook her head. “But I’ve heard Uncle Johnny talk about him a couple times and I read the Avengers’ file on him one time when Bentley and I were racing.”

“Racing?” Laura asked.

“We sometimes race to see who can hack the Avengers’ mainframe fastest,” Valeria said with a shrug. “We’ve been caught twice. Last time, Tony Stark said if he caught us again he was either going to press charges or hire us.” Valeria paused and frowned slightly. “... I thought Daken was dead though.”

“He was,” Laura agreed. “Now he isn’t.”

“Oh,” Valeria said, accepting that easily. “Uncle Johnny will be happy. I think he missed him.”

Laura nodded. “I did not know that they were friends,” she said, sitting on the floor next to Valeria and loosely hugging her knees. “Your mother and father seem conflicted about that. They know that Daken is not trustworthy,” she mused.

Valeria shrugged and smirked. “Uncle Johnny’s converted villains before.”

“Daken is not a villain. He is a weapon,” Laura said in a soft but firm voice and then looked away, pursing her lips. “I will teach him to be more, just as I was taught that I could be... He is much older than me, but in many ways he is very childish.”

“I know that feeling,” Valeria grinned broadly. “You’re the big sister even though you’re the youngest.”

“Yes,” Laura agreed, smiling softly at her.

“Why’d you bring him?” Valeria asked, tilting her head to the side. “Where is he?”

“Daken is speaking to your uncle now,” Laura said, sobering slightly. “I brought him because he has been hurt very badly, and I am hopeful that your father can help him.”

Valeria frowned. “If he’s hurt, isn’t Doctor McCoy the expert on mutant biology?”

Laura nodded slowly. “... Doctor McCoy’s behavior has become increasingly erratic and questionable in the last year,” she said. “I... would be more confident in your father’s judgment right now.”

“Because of the time-travel thing?”

“Because of many things,” Laura said, wetting her lips.

“You don’t trust him anymore?” Valeria asked.

“... I trust your father’s judgment more right now.”

Valeria nodded, fidgeting with a lock of her hair. “Do you think Doctor McCoy is going crazy?”

Laura stared at the floor for a minute. “I hope not... He was a very good man for many years.”

Valeria nodded soberly again, gazing downward, and then her eyes flicked up to Laura again and she brightened. “How was Daken hurt? I want to help too.”

“Valeria. We don’t want you involved in this,” Sue spoke up from across the room.

“ _Mom_ , Hippocratic oath and stuff!” Valeria protested.

“You’re not a doctor, Valeria.”

“Daken is not in the lab right now,” Laura pointed out, glancing at Sue. “She could look over Doctor Richard’s data without meeting him.”

Sue sighed, frowning. “I’d rather not have her involved in anything that SHIELD might consider aiding and abetting,” she said.

Laura nodded. “I understand.”

Valeria crossed her arms and stuck out her lip. “He’s Laura’s _brother!_ ” she protested. “And maybe we _should_ be aiding and abetting some more because there have been _multiple_ cases in the last year that suggest SHIELD doesn’t necessarily believe in giving mutants due process.”

“There will be _no_ revolutions in this house, young lady,” Susan scolded and then sighed again, squeezing her eyes shut. “All right, you can help your father in the lab, but you will behave yourself and leave it alone when we tell you to.”

Valeria hopped to her feet and grabbed Laura’s hand as she stood. “I’m gonna aid and abet the ‘mutant menace’!” she announced cheerfully, pulling her out the door and back toward the lab as Susan followed behind them. “Dad!” Valeria called as they reached the lab. “I’m aiding and abetting!”

Doctor Richards glanced at her, a small smile playing across his lips. “Are you now?” he asked.

“Yep. What have you got?” Valeria dropped Laura’s hand and ran over to the main computer bank, clamoring up to kneel on top of a chair and starting to read.

“The DNA analysis will take a while longer, but from what I’m seeing here, it looks like an entirely different issue than with Logan,” Doctor Richards said, fully at ease collaborating with a four year old as though they were academic peers. “It seems like Daken’s healing factor has somehow been actually _exhausted_.”

“That is entirely possible,” Laura said, standing behind Valeria and looking at the screen she was pursuing, though Laura couldn’t really read any of the data scrolling past. “When I was fourteen, mine became overtaxed in battle and I stopped healing until... until a teammate was able to restore me using his biokinetic abilities.”

Doctor Richards nodded, looking at the larger screen above the computer bank. “Interesting... Perhaps that would--”

“He is dead.” The Richards all turned to give Laura concerned looks. Maybe she had spoken too quickly or too sharply. “... The biokinetic mutant... he was killed,” she explained a little quieter. “... The same creature that attacked Daken... it killed my friend.”

“... I’m so sorry, Laura,” Susan said softly.

Laura swallowed, flexing her fingers anxiously and then balling her hands into fists at her sides. “There is a healer at the New Xavier School. He is quite powerful and may be able to help Daken. But Cyclops would not approve, and I do not wish to go behind his back, or ask Christopher to do so, if it can be avoided,” she said, refocusing her attention on things that she could do something about.

“Well, if his healing factor’s just exhausted, then all it really needs is a jump-start, right?” Valeria asked, turning back to the computer in front of her.

“Theoretically, yes,” Doctor Richards agreed, giving Laura another concerned look before glancing back down at his daughter. “It will be another forty minutes before we can confirm whether or not Daken’s DNA has been damaged, but assuming it’s still intact, then if we get the healing process started, his mutation should take over fairly quickly.”

“And you could do that?” Laura asked, looking at him and feeling as though her lungs had been compressed up to now and she hadn’t noticed until the weight was removed.

“Well, there are a variety of therapies we could try...” Doctor Richards said, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly and his scent acquiring a nervous tang.

“Ockham's razor, Dad,” Valeria broke in, plopping herself down properly in the chair and spinning around to face Laura. “He needs MGH.”

Doctor Richards’ nose twitched slightly, fighting a grimace. “That might be the most expedient way, yes,” he agreed.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Susan said, not bothering to hide a grimace, “and that you’re not seriously talking about using _illegal drugs_ to put an extremely dangerous sometimes-terrorist back on his feet.”

“ _Controlled_ drugs,” Doctor Richards corrected. “MGH has been approved for medical research.”

“If that is all that is necessary, I won’t involve your family further,” Laura said. “I can find a distributor and acquire the MGH myself.”

“Except that street-quality MGH isn’t what your brother needs,” Valeria said, curling her small hands around the edge of the seat and swinging her legs. “He needs medical-grade MGH synthesized from somebody with the same healing factor as him.”

Laura stared down at her for a moment and then turned to look at Doctor Richards. “You can do this?” she asked.

Doctor Richards hesitated and then nodded. “It will take a little over an hour. But I think we should wait until we have the DNA results back. There may be no reason to--”

“Whatever you need- blood- tissue- I will heal. I do not wish to waste time. There is someone Daken and I must locate as quickly as possible,” Laura said brusquely. “I- I am concerned for their safety. Mystique has them.”

Doctor Richards and Susan exchanged worried glances. “Who, Laura?” Susan asked.

Laura shook her head. “I do not wish to involve you. This is... very sensitive. I have not yet told even Daken. I wish to say it out loud as few times as possible. We may lose our chance to save them if we lose the element of surprise.”

Doctor Richards and Susan again gave each other concerned looks. “Laura, we can help you,” Doctor Richards tried.

“... Your home has been infiltrated by a shapeshifter before,” Laura said very quietly, looking down, and she could hear both of their pulses quicken and Susan’s scent soured. “I am not saying that there is a likelihood that that has happened now. But Mystique threatened me. Personally. I cannot afford to take any chances at all until Daken and I have found him.” She bit the tip of her tongue, annoyed with the tiny verbal slip that had given away her query’s gender.

“... I see,” Doctor Richards said, just above a whisper, before strengthening his voice. “Is there anything you need? Anything we can give you to help?” he asked.

Laura chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, considering that. “... I believe he is in Madripoor,” she said quietly. “... We will need to get there without being detected. Everyone there works for Mystique or Sabertooth... And we will need to be able to leave very quickly.”

Doctor Richards nodded. “Sounds like a personal teleportation devise would be the thing,” he said and gave her a small smile that was meant to hide his lingering anxiety. “I’ll set up the distillation process for the MGH and then see what I have around.”

“Thank you, Doctor Richards,” Laura said, then bit her lip for a moment, then added, “I am very grateful.”

000

“Sara Jessen is a _butt!_ ”

“That ain’t polite and it ain’t true, Frank,” Ben admonished, hoisting Franklin onto his shoulder as he climbed out of the Fantasticar.

“It _is_ true, Uncle Ben! She _is_ a butt!” Franklin protested.

“People ain’t _butts_ , Franklin. People _have_ butts,” Ben corrected as he walked to the elevator, Franklin perched on his shoulder, clearly still hung up on the butt issue.

“Well she’s _stupid_ and her _face_ is stupid and her _butt_ is stupid!” Franklin snarled, crossing his arms and hunching.

“Hey now, that’s enough!” Ben picked Franklin up and set him on his feet in the elevator then crouched down to look him in the eye. “What brought this on? What did the little girl do to you?”

“She said that _Taylor Swift_ is cooler than Spider-Man,” Franklin spat, grimacing as if the name tasted fowl.

Ben squinted a little and tilted his head to the side. “Okay, so maybe she _is_ stupid,” he conceded, “but it still ain’t polite to _say_ so.”

“ _She’s_ not polite,” Franklin countered, then brightened as the elevator doors opened and he saw his mother striding up the hall toward them. “Mom! Spider-Man is way better than Taylor Swift, right?” he called, running to meet her halfway.

Sue gave him a puzzled smile. “Well, I like both of them just fine. But Spider-Man comes to dinner more often, so I guess he’s my favorite.”

“Yeah!” Franklin exclaimed, pumping his fists in the air.

“Somebody else is visiting today, honey,” Sue said, ruffling his hair. “Laura’s here.”

“Laura?” Franklin bounced on his feet excitedly. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Lab three,” Sue said, starting to walk back the way she’d come from. “Daddy and Val are helping her put some stuff together.”

“What stuff?” Franklin asked, bouncing along beside her.

“Super hero stuff. She says she has a rescue mission,” Sue said, smiling down at him.

“Neat!” Franklin exclaimed.

“How’s she looking, Suzie?” Ben asked, worried; this was the first they’d seen of Laura since Murder World. “She okay?”

“It’s so hard to tell with her,” Sue sighed, shaking her head. “And she brought her _brother_ with her.”

“ _What_ brother?” Ben frowned, baffled.

“What brother do you _think?_ ”

Ben drew a blank for about two seconds before it hit him. “That _crumb-snatcher’s_ still _kicking?_ I heard he’d _bought_ it!”

“It’s complicated,” Sue sounded tired and unhappy. “But Laura seems pretty sure his death wasn’t faked.”

“And _I’m_ pretty sure the guy’s slicker ‘n a slug!” Ben grumbled.

Laura’s voice could be heard from inside as they finally reached the lab. When he walked in, Ben spotted her standing next to one of the work benches where Reed and Val were building something. “... failed to address that the conditioning was still in place,” she was saying. “From what I have been told, Professor Xavier advised Logan to remove him from violent situations but Logan did not--”

“Laura!” Franklin shouted, running across the room to hug her. “We missed you!”

Laura went stiff for a moment and Ben tensed up just watching it, before she relaxed and laid a hand on Franklin’s head. “Hello, Franklin. I apologize for being uncommunicative for so long,” she said softly.

“It’s okay ‘cause you’re here now!” Franklin said, grinning up at her. “Mom say’s you’re rescuing somebody, can I help?”

“It is a secret mission, Franklin. Only my brother and I are going, but your family is helping us get ready,” Laura said.

“Who’s your brother?” Franklin asked, eyebrows raised.

“Uncle Johnny’s friend with the mohawk,” Val called from atop the workbench.

“ _That’s_ your brother? I didn’t know he was your brother!” Franklin exclaimed. “He doesn’t look like you!”

“He had a different mother than me, and we did not know each other until recently,” Laura explained.

“Oh. Who are you rescuing? Were they kidnapped by pirates?”

Laura seemed to consider that for a moment. “It is a secret. We must catch the pirate queen unaware, and so it is very important that you don’t tell anyone, Franklin,” she said, surprising Ben with her willingness to fit the answer to Franklin’s fantasy.

Franklin’s eyes went round. “It _was_ pirates!” he whispered.

“Just one pirate, but she is very terrible,” Laura said, nodding.

“I won’t tell!” Franklin said, making a zipper motion across his mouth.

“Thank you,” Laura said, patting his shoulder.

“So Laura, how long you been running with Daken?” Ben asked, trying not to sound too suspicious. And failing.

Laura looked up at him. “... We were both kidnapped two weeks ago. I have been manipulated and used. Daken suffered worse,” she said in a calm voice, her face its usual blank. “In recent days, I witnessed Mystique trying to assert influence over him. I have put a stop to that.”

“Oh yeah? How?” Ben asked, also wanting to know exactly how anybody ‘asserted influence’ over someone like _Daken_.

“By taking charge of him,” Laura replied simply.

“What does _that_ mean?” Ben demanded.

“It means that Daken has been conditioned to follow orders, and right now he is following _my_ orders and not _Mystique’s_.”

Ben stared at her, not really believing it but still intrigued. “No foolin’?”

“No fooling,” Laura agreed and then frowned. “It is a tacit compulsion. Please do not mention it in front of him. It will just make him obstinate.”

“Yeah, I don’t buy it,” Ben said, shaking his head. “Where is that rat, anyway?”

“Johnny’s keeping him busy,” Sue said.

“I want to go meet Laura’s--” Franklin started.

“ _No_ ,” Ben, Reed and Sue said in perfect unison.

Franklin gave a look of deep discontent and hunched his shoulders. “My brother is a dangerous person,” Laura explained to him. “He does not normally harm children, but he is very untrustworthy.”

“And I don’t trust him with Johnny a whole lot more than I’d trust him with Franklin,” Ben growled, turning back toward the door. “I’m gonna go--”

“If you _touch_ him, I will find out how thick your skin really is,” Laura snarled suddenly, pulling away from Franklin and starting after Ben.

“What’s gotten into _you_ , kid?” Ben demanded, startled by the reaction as much as _who_ she was defending so vehemently.

“Daken’s healing factor isn’t functioning, Ben,” Reed called calmly from the workbench. “And it seems he’s refusing to admit, even to himself, how vulnerable he is right now. You’ll understand when you see him.”

“Okay, fine. I ain’t gonna clobber him, all right?” Ben grumbled, making his way out into the hall and finding that Laura was still chasing after him and wearing a warning glower. “Kid, I _said_ I ain’t gonna hurt him!”

“You dislike him,” Laura accused.

“And in case you ain’t aware, that club’s got pretty good membership, kiddo,” Ben retorted, making his way down the hall toward the balcony that Johnny had declared the ‘kid-free zone’ after the last rebuild. “ _Including_ your old man, so I’m wondering what all this brother-sister business with you two is all of a sudden.”

“Logan could not understand some aspects of Daken’s conditioning,” Laura said, looking away. “He was easily frustrated. He was angry that he could not help Daken himself, just as Daken was angry that he could not make himself understood. They were unable to communicate.”

“Oh sure. Ya can always chalk up a couple guys trying like hell to _kill_ each other to _communication_ _breakdown_ ,” Ben snorted.

“Yes,” Laura agreed, either missing or ignoring the sarcasm. “I am in a better position to understand how Daken was...” she trailed off, sniffing the air and then darted suddenly through the door out onto the balcony. “ _Daken! Stop it!_ ”

Ben arrived in time to see Daken detaching himself from Johnny’s earlobe, practically sitting in his lap. Johnny was red-faced and looked completely baffled. Daken glanced up and grinned, “Laura!” he burbled.

“What the hell is--” Ben started and then faltered, because all of a sudden, and for no identifiable reason, he couldn’t be happier.

“W-what...?” Johnny mumbled, looking even more confused.

“You’re _drinking?_ ” Laura demanded, grabbing a beer can from off the bench next to Daken and Johnny. She held it up as she glared at Daken for a moment before throwing it on the ground. “Alcohol is a _blood-thinner_ , Daken, and you have a _bleeding problem!_ ”

“... You’re angry...” Daken noted quietly, his face going blank. It took Ben a moment to register why his left eye was closed. The eyelids were sunken in. There wasn’t an eyeball behind them. Well, Reed had said he’d understand Laura’s over-protective act when he saw him.

“And you are _drunk!_ ” Laura accused.

Ben started blinking, trying to fight tears, as the unexpected happiness of a moment earlier died and he was suddenly spiraling into depression.

“I am?” Daken sounded genuinely confused.

“ _Why_ did you get him _drunk?_ ” Laura demanded, rounding on Johnny.

Johnny touched a hand to his cheek and pulled it away, staring at the tears smeared over his fingertips. “... the hell...? What is...? What?”

“Daken, get off of him. He does _not_ want to be seduced,” Laura demanded, grabbing Daken’s arm and pulling at him.

“He might.”

“He does _not_ ,” Laura said firmly.

“Is- is _he_ making me _sad?_ ” Johnny asked, looking up at Laura. “And- um...”

“It is his pheromones,” Laura snapped. “Which would be under _control_ if he were not _drunk!_ ”

“That- that was only his _second_ beer!” Johnny protested. “... Pheromones?”

“Alcohol has never affected him before. He does not _know_ his tolerance,” Laura retorted. “And he is _missing_ an _arm!_ ” Ben had just noticed that fact as Laura said it, finally seeing the damage when Daken stumbled backwards, looking confused by his lack of coordination, as he let Laura pull him off of Johnny.

“Oh... Yeah, I guess that would kind of make a difference in the whole body-mass thing...” Johnny said, wiping a sleeve across his eyes and staring at the ground, his face still flushed.

“Jeeze _Louise_ , can’t you turn him _off_ or something?” Ben asked, scraping his hand against his face. He tried to place the last time he had felt so completely desolate. It was like somebody had _died_.

“He _could_ if he were _sober_ ,” Laura hissed.

“Why is he making _us_ sad and you _mad?_ ” Johnny asked, looking up at Laura.

“I am making _myself_ angry to counter the pheromones Daken is propagating,” Laura answered.

“You’re not really angry?” Daken asked, and a surge of hope lanced through the air, even as Daken wore a poker-face.

“I am _very_ angry,” Laura snapped, turning back to him. “You should _not_ have been drinking. That was _foolish_.” Ben felt his heart plummeting as all hope seemed to die right then and there. Then Laura put a hand against Daken’s shoulder and said in voice that was still firm and authoritative, but somehow had a gentler quality to it, “But I forgive you.”

Relief hit like a tidal wave. Daken’s face still stayed mostly blank. The relief turned slowly into a bizarre mix of happiness and paranoia that put Ben’s teeth on edge.

“I do not know if this will set us back,” Laura grumbled, sliding her hand down to Daken’s wrist and pulling him after her like a child as she stalked back inside. “Doctor Richards may not be able to treat you until you are sober.”

“There’s treatment? He can fix me?” Daken’s voice faded as he was dragged down the hall.

“No fixing _that_ mess,” Ben snorted, shaking his head as he swiped at the tears on his face and tried to get control of himself again now that Daken’s atmosphere had dissipated. He looked down at Johnny, who was chewing on his knuckle and looking _extremely_ disgruntled. “So... _Pheromones_ , huh?”

“ _Shut up_ ,” Johnny snapped.

“Hey, he’s a pretty man. I ain’t judgin’ or nothin’.”

“ _Shut up_ , Ben or I _swear to_ _God_ I will _shut_ you up!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on Laura's indignation over Daken's inebriation in the next chapter, this was starting to run long so I decided this was a good place to break things. Guest starring the F4 and FF! I used my MCU powers to catch me up on all the F4/FF happenings of the last eight years for the purposes of better writing the weird relationship between these families (although haven't yet undertaken New Avengers v1 for what Logan and Ben's relationship was like), and then ended up falling in love with the Future Foundation kids. They're adorable. Highly recommend the FF comics and hope that we get a new run for their adventures in Doomstadt.


	5. Science definitely works like this.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you upset about _now?_ ” Laura demanded, appearing in a doorway and casting him an annoyed, questioning look.  
> Daken glared at her. “I am the oldest person in this building and _fucking monster_. I will _not_ be spoken to like a _child_ ,” he announced.  
> “Then _stop_ throwing _tantrums_ ,” Laura said, throwing her arms to the sides and rolling her eyes.

“Johnny has gotten him drunk,” Laura announced as she towed an uncharacteristically graceless Daken into the lab by the wrist.

Of course he had. Reed closed his eyes and sighed. He could hear Susan grinding her teeth as she momentarily buried her face in her hands. “Do you have an idea of how much he drank?” Reed asked calmly.

“About one and a half beers. He seems greatly affected. I think he has not recovered from the blood loss he suffered when Sinister attacked him,” Laura said, pulling Daken over to a chair. “Sit down. The good news is that he is not a violent drunk. The bad news is that he apparently loses control of his abilities.”

“What do you...” Reed started to ask before feeling something hit him like a punch in the gut. A tumultuous mix of emotions- depression, anxiety, paranoia, a hint of hope and a dozen other conflicting feelings. “Oh,” he breathed, staring at Daken. The only indication Reed could pick out that the sentiments were emanating from him was the absence of Daken’s usual veneer of smirking wit and charm in favor of a defensively blank look, not entirely unlike Laura’s neutral expression.

Susan picked up Valeria and caught Franklin by the hand, pulling them toward the door as they both started sniffling. Despite the artificially instilled emotional distress, Valeria was still alert and curious, calling between sobs and sniffles, “Oh, what is that? It’s not telepathy, is it? Something chemical, right? Is it a pheromone or something more complex?” Her inquiries were ended by the laboratory door sliding shut behind them as Susan escorted the children back to the playroom.

Reed took a deep breath, trying to sweep away the factitious emotions with the logical certainty that they didn’t belong to him. But emotions were notoriously resistant to logic. “Daken, I believe that your condition will prove to be fully curable and I would appreciate it if you calmed down,” he said carefully.

“I’m perfectly calm,” Daken lied, and lied very well despite his inebriation; so well that Reed would have believed him if Daken’s emotions weren’t currently being broadcast throughout his immediate vicinity.

Reed sighed and reached for a cabinet under one of the workbenches. “Would you like a respirator, Laura?” he asked, pulling two off of a shelf next to the latex gloves and mini forcefield generators.

“Please,” Laura accepted the respirator and settled it into place over her mouth and nose.

“Now then,” Reed said, his voice slightly muffled by the respirator as he glanced back at the monitors displaying readouts of various analysis from Daken’s blood. “I think I’m missing a piece of the story here. Daken’s healing factor was already inoperative before losing his arm. Why didn’t he bleed out? And you said that only happened a few days ago but the amputation has already covered over with skin.”

“Malcom Colcord, also involved with the Weapon X project and apparently connected to the Paradise organization that Cornelius was working with. Two years ago, he developed a serum based off of Daken’s healing factor,” Laura explained, glancing at Daken who was clenching his jaw and narrowing his eye. Reed was very glad the respirator blocked whatever emotional triggers he was emitting right now. “Shogun, the man who kidnapped us, had a dose with him. Colcord was never able to make the serum as effective as our healing factors, but it was enough to close the wound.”

“Interesting...” Reed murmured. “Do you know anything about how it worked on a chemical level?”

“No,” Laura shook her head. “It may be fully synthetic. It's possible that Paradise has been synthesizing it on its own without Daken's blood. Although as Shogun claims they have been kidnapping us and erasing our memories, it's equally possible that they've been taking our blood specifically to synthesize it. I'm not sure how _long_ the kidnapping has been going on.”

“The former would be an intriguing possibility,” Reed nodded, processing the information, and then slowly shifted to shaking his head. “If something like that could be synthesized as a pharmaceutical, the medical benefits...” he closed his eyes. “I suppose it’s not exactly _ironic_ for the philosopher’s stone of modern medicine to be discovered by morally corrupt mad scientists. They don’t have medical ethics standing in their way.”

“They did their research using abducted children as test subjects,” Laura agreed.

“And the _Nazis_ made most of the great scientific breakthroughs of the twentieth century,” Daken noted. “Science thrives without a conscience.”

Reed glanced back at Daken, the corners of his lips tugging downwards. “... How did Colcord get your genetic information, Daken?” he asked.

“I gave it to him,” Daken sniffed, crossing his arms and glaring in the other direction. “I said ‘make me stronger- I don’t care how,’ and gave him a few vials of blood, a recently vacated former drug-lab and a pile of money.”

“And then he double-crossed you,” Laura noted, hooking her thumbs through her belt loops and looking down at Daken.

“And he _burned_ for that,” Daken replied in a flippant tone, his expression falling into a smug look that felt much more familiar on his face than the blankness and not-quite scowls he’d been displaying before.

“He did,” Laura agreed. “But the presence of his serum in Paradise’s hands would seem to indicate that _he_ was not really the man in charge. Which means that the people who _were_ got away with it.”

The smug look disappeared instantly and Daken’s glare returned stronger than ever as his jaw clenched and the line of his shoulders tensed. When he started speaking again, he’d shifted to Japanese. “<But we’re going to take away their toys. Together, right? Just like in Madripoor. We’re exquisite together.>”

“<We have more important matters to attend to first,>” Laura said.

“<What could _possibly_ be more important? >” Daken demanded, turning his glare on her.

“<I will tell you when you are _sober_ ,>” Laura snapped. “<You are useless to me like this.>”

Daken looked away, his expression going completely blank again.

“What exactly does ‘take away their toys’ mean?” Reed asked, looking at Laura and wondering if Daken might have been entertaining the idea that shifting languages had made their conversation private.

“It was Daken’s idea,” Laura said, calmly looking back at him. “He said that killing the scientists at Paradise would be meaningless. There will always be more mad scientists. He said that if we wanted to stop them from exploiting and perverting our genetics, it’s the samples and data we need to pursue, not the scientists.” Laura looked down, her expression still mostly unreadable but the muscles in her jaw softened and her brow relaxed. “I was... surprised to hear him argue that killing was not a viable solution. To propose something... other.”

“That’s... a very rational proposition...” Reed said slowly, nodding. “I don’t think it would really be as simple as that though. It would probably take years at the least to track down all the over-seas laboratories that have blood and tissue samples from Logan. He... left quite a bit of blood behind with alarming regularity.”

“It will take time,” Laura agreed. “But if Daken is able to be cured, then we will have time.”

“It’s also essential that the two of you don’t leave a blood-trail the way Logan did,” Reed pointed out.

“I know.”

“<I never leave evidence,>” Daken murmured.

Laura glanced down at him. “Sinister has your _arm_ and is probably _already_ cloning you,” she pointed out.

Daken snarled and turned sharply away, glaring at the floor. “<Sinister is _first_. >”

“I _told_ you, it has to wait,” Laura said.

“What is so _damned_ _important?!_ ” Daken demanded, snapping his eye back up to Laura. They glared at each other for a few moments before Daken looked away again, hunching sulkily in on himself.

During the exchange, Reed dug through the cabinets until he found a small gauge and moved back over to Daken. Daken emitted a low, warning growl as Reed caught his wrist, and Reed mused, as he turned Daken’s palm upward and pressed the gauge into it, that Daken wouldn’t have allowed himself to sink to such a lack of eloquence if he were sober.

Reed glanced at the BAC reading of .072 and pocketed the gauge, running calculations in his head. “I think we could start in an hour. His blood-alcohol should be low enough by then to keep from running the risk interference.”

“Thank you,” Laura said.

“But his healing factor may come back online a bit too aggressively if his natural powers kick in before the MGH runs its course,” Reed said, crossing his arms and tapping his fingers against his elbow.

Laura raised an eyebrow. “You think his arm will regrow quickly?” she asked.

“There’s a possibility,” Reed agreed. “But if so, it will mean his body starts cannibalizing non-vital tissues to repair the damaged areas.”

Laura nodded slowly. “... My healing factor takes three days to regrow an arm,” she noted.

Reed stared at her for a minute, his stomach clenching. “... You know that for a fact,” he realized.

“Yes,” Laura agreed.

Reed closed his eyes and let out an uncomfortable breath. “I see. That would provide you with enough time to consume the necessary biomass to replace it,” he said, nodding. “In the instance of a significant loss of flesh, I believe a super-charged healing factor may be cause for concern. If Daken’s body heals _too_ quickly, then his healing factor will attempt to draw the mass to replace his arm from the rest of his body, which would most likely weaken him for a few days and be excruciatingly painful.”

“Pain is irrelevant,” Daken sneered, though his voice lacked venom and was slightly softer than his usual speaking tone.

“So either way, it will take about three days for him to recover,” Laura reasoned, her gaze cast downward as she seemed to be laying out plans in her head.

“Probably,” Reed agreed. “But if his healing factor does end up running too hot, I’d like to see if we can circumvent the detrimental effects by suspending him in bio-gel to offer an alternate source of mass. I’m not sure it will work, but it’s worth a shot.”

Laura looked back up at him. “I trust your judgment,” she said.

Reed felt the corners of his lips tug upward. He knew that coming from Laura, ‘trust’ was high praise. “Then I’ll start preparing a medi-pod,” he said.

000

“So, the pheromone thing, I’m just- I’m curious. How exactly does that _work?_ ” Johnny was rambling awkwardly. He’d finally dared to come back to the lab and approach Daken again (wearing a respirator) despite obvious discomfort. He was tenacious, stubbornly friendly like Jubilee; Laura wondered if that was why Daken liked him.

“Laura informs me that I am drunk,” Daken replied in a slightly sardonic tone, worrying at the hem of his hospital gown and attempting to look uncaring and casual. “I’m led to believe that drunkenness is frequently associated with a mild to moderate loss of control in a variety of arenas.” He had been becoming less desultory and more caustic as he sobered.

“He is grumpy,” Laura murmured softly, standing next to the medi-pod Doctor Richards was hooking various feeds into and watching it slowly fill with pink-orange goo. She saw one corner of Doctor Richards’ mouth hitch upward in a very slight grin and heard Daken growl, which he’d been doing with increasing frequency as his intoxication wore on.

“Okay, I really _really_ don’t want to be _that guy_ ,” Johnny was saying, his hearing not sharp enough to have caught Laura’s comment from across the room. “But you _do_ know I’m--?”

“ _Yes_ , I _know_ that you’re _straight_ , Johnny!” Daken snapped. “ _Christ_ , you act like this is the first time I’ve ever _hit_ on you.”

“... Yeah, but I never thought you were _serious_...” Johnny mumbled awkwardly.

“I _wasn’t_. You’re _straight_ ,” Daken retorted. “And I’m not completely _delusional_.”

“You’re _somewhat_ delusional,” Laura noted, glancing over her shoulder and receiving a glare in return.

“Okay... So...”

“In a heartbeat,” Daken said, cutting Johnny off.

“W-what?”

“The inquiry that you’re so miserably failing to articulate. The answer is yes, absolutely. Without hesitation,” Daken sneered.

“... Ah.” Johnny radiated anxious confusion and a flush could be seen creeping out past his respirator.

“Oh _please_. Half of the magazine-reading, television-watching, twitter-feeding population of America would say the same,” Daken sniffed, crossing his arms. “Laura, is he gorgeous?” he demanded, jerking his chin toward Johnny.

Laura looked back at them blankly for a moment and then nodded. “Yes.”

“All things being equal, would _you_ sleep with America’s most beloved super-hero bachelor?” he asked as Johnny made a startled sound in the back of his throat and looked slightly horrified.

“That is an inappropriate question,” Laura replied. “I’m seventeen.”

“An inappropriate question _you’re_ avoiding _answering_ ,” Daken noted with a smirk.

“I _have_ a romantic companion,” Laura crossed her arms and frowned at him. “He is very attractive.”

“Oh well _now_ I’m interested,” Daken’s smirk widened into a grin with a hint of his teeth showing through. “That must _thrill_ little Jules.”

“Julian. And it is none of _his_ business _either_.”

“I think we’re ready to get started here,” Doctor Richards interrupted. “Daken, if you’ll come over here please.”

Daken pushed himself out of his chair and walked across the room. His gait was steady now but his footsteps were heavier than his normally silent, cat-footed grace; Laura doubted anyone else noticed. He waited as Doctor Richards stuck electrodes to him and fitted a breathing mask for him. “How long will it take?” Laura asked, watching Doctor Richards insert an IV into Daken’s arm.

“We’re in uncharted territory here, I’m afraid,” Doctor Richards said. “I’m not entirely sure at what point his natural healing factor will begin functioning again. If we do end up with the overlap scenario, it will be fairly obvious when it does, but it’s equally likely his own healing factor might not pick up until the MGH starts wearing off and result in a quiet, seamless transition.”

Laura nodded, watching Daken climb into the pod. She saw the oxygen mask shift as he grimaced under it. “What _is_ this? It feels like mucus,” he complained in a muffled voice.

“It’s an emulsion of all the nutrients the human body is made up of,” Doctor Richards answered, plugging the electrodes and IV into fixtures on the inside of the pod.

“Oh goodie. A soylent green bath,” Daken grimaced again.

“I’m sure it is synthetic,” Laura said.

“It is,” Doctor Richards assured. “Daken, I’m going to ask you to lay back and try to relax. I’ll be monitoring your vitals and brain activity. If I see any pain spikes, I’ll administer an anesthetic. This isn’t the amphetamine-laced MGH they sell on the streets, there shouldn’t be a rush. Just try to relax,” Doctor Richards explained calmly.

Daken glanced briefly at him, then at Laura for a longer moment, before closing his eye and letting his head fall back under the goo. The pod’s lid folded out into place, hiding Daken inside the metallic cocoon.

Laura pulled her respirator off, feeling a vague, uncertain tension as she glanced over to where Doctor Richards was typing away at a computer. She wished some part of the pod was transparent so she could see inside. It was paranoia; laboratories made her nervous in the first place and she didn’t particularly trust computers, they sometimes lied. She wanted to see with her own eyes that Daken wasn’t drowning (again) inside the machine. But Doctor Richards had built it and was confident in it, and he was one of the more ethical people she had met in her life.

“I’m administering the MGH now,” Doctor Richards announced, moving the fingers of one hand across the screen of his computer while the other continued tapping away at the keyboard.

“So what if this doesn’t work?” Johnny asked, after pulling his respirator off.

“Then we try something else,” Doctor Richards replied, standing back to watch the numbers and graphs on the computer fluctuate as he removed his own respirator. “But I’m optimistic about this.”

“And we are optimism-powered. It’s the new green energy,” Johnny said.

“It was Val’s idea,” Doctor Richards said.

“Well then I’m sold,” Johnny grinned.

“Is he healing?” Laura asked, looking at the computer monitor.

“He’s starting to,” Doctor Richards answered. “This is about the level of regeneration I’d expect to see from a baseline human injected with the same MGH. This graph here is showing the rate of cell division and tissue regeneration,” he pointed out a fluctuating bar graph in the upper part of the screen. “The line here represents the normal rate of cell division for an adult human. This line up here represents _your_ rate when your healing factor is being taxed.”

The quivering bar that indicated Daken’s healing was between the two, but closer to the human line. Laura watched it intently, occasionally glancing at the other graphs on the screen. One looked similar to the heart-monitors on hospital-themed television shows, but instead of making evenly spaced spikes it was rambling along at mostly the same level. Like when the patient died in those hospital shows. “What is that one?” Laura asked, pointing.

“That’s monitoring Daken’s pain center. If it starts to spike, that would mean he’s in pain,” Doctor Richards said.

Laura nodded. There was a small graph in the lower corner with a single bar that rose and fell at a smooth, regular interval and next to it a heart-shaped icon that lit and darkened in rhythm. Those were easy to decipher and comforting. She let her eyes move back to the shivering bar that told her Daken was healing, at least a little bit. It was perhaps up a bit higher than it had been before. There was a number below it, constantly changing, too quickly to read to the end of the long number before it changed to a new one.

Minutes stretched on and the images on the computer screen continued to wiggle but stayed more or less the same. The healing factor bar stayed where it was, about a third of the way between human and Laura, and she began to chew on her lip, her stomach churning with a kind of anxiety that was rare for her. Her eyes kept glancing to the clock at the bottom of the screen and back up. It was just past eighteen minutes after Daken had been injected that the healing factor bar surged upwards and things suddenly started happening very quickly.

“He’s healing--” Laura started and then her attention was drawn by the pain graph which had started drawing spikes and mountains across its screen. “He’s in--”

“Administering anesthe--” Doctor Richards started to say as his fingers raced across the keyboard, but he was cut off by a sudden, shrill beeping from one of the other computers. “What? That’s not...” he stretched over to examine the screen and Laura saw his face go suddenly slack as he paled a few shades, his heart starting to race. “Oh no,” he mumbled, typing quickly.

“What _is_ that?” Johnny demanded.

“Radiation warning,” Doctor Richards whispered, still typing furiously.

“How is the radiation getting in?” Laura asked.

“It’s not getting _in_ , it’s coming from _Daken_ ,” Doctor Richards said.

“How--”

“The deathseed. It was dormant, not depleted,” Doctor Richards was still hammering away at his computers when a loud thump came from within the medi-pod, followed by another and another. Doctor Richards swore as the lid of the pod warped and cracked and, with the fourth blow, Daken’s feet broke through.

Daken struggled out of the cocoon, kicking and clawing, and Laura found herself drawing her own claws and bracing herself without conscious decision. Daken’s skin was the same blue-gray as Archangel’s when he was lost in the slaughter. By the time Daken had managed to get his feet under him, the skeletal structure of his left arm had already regrown and sinews and flesh were beginning to spin themselves down it. The bio-gel clinging to Daken’s body seemed to soak into his skin, disappearing and drying as he climbed out of the pod, his eyes bloody red, faintly luminescent and filled with joy and bloodlust.

“ _I am risen_ ,” Daken growled, his voice holding the same eerie, hollow quality Archangel’s had. “ _And my judgment shall be upon the weaklings who would pollute my garden with their unfit heredity._ ”

“... Oh shit...” Johnny whispered.

“Daken, you _have_ to calm down,” Doctor Richards said in a firm, authoritative tone, but Laura could hear the undercurrent of fear and she knew Daken could too. “The deathseed is affecting your mind and--”

“ _My mind is clear!_ ” Daken laughed, equal parts cruelty and ecstasy bleeding through. “ _The dead branches must be cut away, that the tree of evolution may flourish!_ ” His left arm was nearly complete, skin beginning to creep its way over the exposed tendons and muscle, and he drew his claws on that hand to bring him into symmetry as he narrowed his eyes at them and squared his shoulders. And suddenly the only thing Laura could smell was terror.

She lunged forward and took a slash at him, ignoring Doctor Richard’s voice as he called after her. Daken countered effortlessly, catching her through the wrist rather than trying to block her claws directly, aware that her adamantium ones would cut through his without slowing down. He was fast. Faster than her. Faster than he should have been. The Death Seed was enhancing him as well as controlling him. A Celestial disease using his body as fodder to craft the perfect weapon of mass destruction. Laura grabbed at that- grabbed at the rage and offense that thought inspired in her. She clung to the anger, pushing away the terror Daken was exuding, and let the rage carry her.

“ _The weak deserve neither pity nor life!_ ” Daken snarled, twisting her arm and moving to strike at her throat with his free hand.

“YOU are weak!” Laura screamed, and saw Daken falter momentarily, long enough for her to wrench herself away, her radial artery spraying blood through the air as she broke her arm free of Daken’s claws. The moment of hesitation had given Laura all she needed to know. The Celestials, Apocalypse, something, was trying to build a weapon out of him, but it was only half built. He was still just Death, not Apocalypse. Daken was still inside. Laura launched herself back at him, shouting, “You are nothing but a _dog_ on a _leash!_ How _dare_ you allow yourself to be _enslaved_ , you _pathetic puppet!_ ”

“ _I am the emissary of evolution! I am the herald of progress!_ ” Daken roared, slicing into her again, catching Laura in the gut.

“ _Laura!_ ” A blast of flame slammed into Daken, throwing him back several feet.

“ _Stay_ out of this!” Laura snapped, turning to glare at Johnny.

“But--”

“Do _not_ interfere!” Laura met Daken halfway as they both lunged toward each other again, cutting and snarling. “You are a _weak_ , _disgusting wretch_ that does not deserve to _be!_ You are _nothing!_ ” Laura shrieked.

“ _Lies!_ ” Daken barked. “ _I am life and death incarnate! I am_ \--”

“You are NOTHING!” Laura bellowed. “How _dare_ you claim to be my _kin_ you _miserable waste of air!_ ”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” Daken’s attacks were becoming sloppy. Laura buried a spur in his gut then the claws on both hands into the back of his shoulder as she flipped over him.

“Where is my _brother?!_ Where is your _pride?!_ ” she demanded, slashing a deep cut across Daken’s back.

“ _SHUT UP!_ ” Daken howled again, flailing wildly as he spun, too sloppy, easily dodged. “ _You don’t- I’m not--_ ”

“You are _not Apocalypse!_ ” Laura screamed, cutting Daken’s claws short and grabbing him by the wrists.

“ _Stop it! Stop it! Shut up!_ ” Daken barely struggled, coming down on his knees and trembling as he weakly tried to tug his arms away from her.

“You are _not Apocalypse!_ ” Laura repeated.

“ _Stop it!_ ” Daken wailed and his skin shifted, changed, the blue-gray draining away, leaving the right color in its wake. The terror scent was dissipating, succeeded by a momentary flash of heartbreaking misery before the pheromones cut off entirely, locked down as Daken tried again to tug away from Laura. She let go of his wrists and caught him around the shoulders, crouching down and hugging him awkwardly. “... Stop it...” Daken whispered.

“You are _not_ Apocalypse,” Laura murmured back. “You are _better_ than that.”

Daken let his hands drop and lay against the floor, his head dipped as he trembled. “... I could be a god,” he whined softly.

“You could be more,” Laura replied. “You could be a human being, with a will of your own.”

Daken fell silent and still. Laura could smell that the wounds she’d inflicted had closed and he didn’t have any sickly odor at all. The bio-gel had preformed as hoped, and the deathseed, aside from being a horrifying headache in general, had likely done almost as much to enhance Daken’s healing factor as the MGH had. Laura glanced up, over Daken’s slumped shoulders, to find Doctor Richards and Johnny staring at her with expressions she wasn’t quite able to interpret.

“Daken seems better able to suppress it than other Deaths I have known,” Laura noted. “I believe the danger has passed.”

“... I think that’s being a bit too optimistic, Laura,” Doctor Richards said quietly. “He may be _suppressing_ the deathseed, but it’s still there. It could be triggered again.”

“I understand,” Laura said with a grim nod. “I have seen that trauma may cause a former Death to relapse. But I have also known two Deaths who overcame their tainting and only one who succumbed to it... Logan was Death once, and Daken is just as stubborn and prideful. I believe he will prove stronger than the infection.”

Doctor Richards sighed and nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s possible a healing factor actually makes it more difficult for the deathseed to exert its full influence over a mutant’s biology. But, yes, I’m sure stubbornness is helpful as well,” he said. “Okay... Laura, I know you’re in a hurry, but I’d like to give Daken a full physical before I let you go.”

“All right,” Laura agreed, rising to her feet and offering Daken a hand up. He accepted the hand but didn’t look at her.

000

“Keep your head still and follow the light with your eyes,” Richards instructed, moving a penlight back and forth and up and down in front of Daken’s face. “Good. Thank you,” he murmured pocketing the light and picking up a tablet to poke at.

Daken sipped at his third Boost as he watched the good doctor play with his toys. He was ravenous. Richards’ soylent green had done some good; Daken hadn’t lost too much muscle off the rest of his body and Richards reported that his bone-density seemed to be fine, but Daken was still shy two kilos and hungrier than he’d been in recent memory.

“Well, your healing factor seems to be operating at full capacity and I would say that you are just a few meals and a good night’s sleep away from a full recovery, Daken,” Richards said, putting down his tablet again.

“Then you obviously have no idea how long it takes to sit for a tattoo like that,” Daken retorted, finishing the Boost and drumming his fingers on the empty bottle.

“Laura seems very intent on this rescue mission, and I can appreciate the urgency, but please remind her that whatever she’s trying to accomplish, you’ll stand a much better chance of success if you’re fully recuperated and the both of you are rested,” Richards said with a little frown that meant he was pretty sure his sage advice was going to be ignored. “If you’re going up against someone like Mystique, you really can’t afford to cut corners.”

The phrase ‘rescue mission’ and the name ‘Mystique’ were what Daken picked out of Richards’ little mother-hen speech. “I really don’t know what she’s on about,” Daken said with a shrug, prodding at the subject to figure out what exactly Laura had told the Fantastic Family. “All the reprobates in Mystique’s entourage right now are the kind of murderers that would inspire Laura to see _me_ as the lesser evil.”

Richards sighed. “Well, she implied that Mystique is holding _someone_ against their will.”

“She’s holding _several_ people against their will, but they’re all horrible,” Daken sneered and then shrugged. “I heard that Mystique threatened to seduce one of more of Laura’s little boyfriends, maybe that’s what has her so riled.”

“I’m not sure,” Richards shook his head. “But whatever the problem is, please don’t throw yourselves at it until you’ve both slept. Laura can be impulsive, she’s a teenager after all, but I know you’re rational enough to recognize that going into a fight exhausted is a mistake.”

“I will convey the doctor’s orders and also insist that the next stop off on our glorious crusade is a steak dinner,” Daken replied, pushing himself off the exam table.

“Thank you,” Richards said. “It’s been... surprisingly good to see the two of you together. It seems like this relationship is very beneficial to both of you.”

Daken frowned and cast Richards a mild, suspicious glare. “What does _that_ mean?” he demanded.

Richards shrugged slightly. “Laura seems quite relaxed around you,” he said. “And you seem more genuine than I remember.”

“Then maybe I’ve just gotten better at lying,” Daken retorted.

“Maybe,” Richards said with a slight, amused smirk.

Daken glared at him. “You _condescending_ prick,” he hissed, and received a raised eyebrow in return. “ _Thank you_ , Doctor, for your messiah-like beneficence and medical miracles. I am truly in awe. I’ll just remove my inferior-minded self from your _fantastic_ presence and stop bothering you.” He turned and swept out of the lab. He could hear Richards following after him.

“Daken...”

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ , my mistake. Obviously I can’t just be wandering around _off-leash_ when there are children in the building,” Daken snarled, stalking down the hall. “ _Where_ is Laura? I’m sick of the pre-school _stench_ of this place.”

“What are you upset about _now?_ ” Laura asked, appearing in a doorway and casting him an annoyed, questioning look.

Daken glared at her. “I am the oldest person in this building and a _monster_. I will _not_ be spoken to like a _child_ ,” he announced.

“Then _stop_ throwing _tantrums_ ,” Laura said, throwing her arms to the sides and rolling her eyes.

There was the strangled sound of stifled laughter and Daken turned a glare on Susan, who was standing in the doorway Laura had just exited, a hand clapped over her mouth and eyes shining with poorly disguised amusement. “Are we _done_ here?” Daken demanded. “I thought you were in some kind of _hurry_.”

“Have you said goodbye to Johnny?” Laura asked.

“Do not _patronize_ me, Laura!”

“Johnny will be annoyed if you don’t say goodbye,” Laura said, crossing her arms.

Daken glared at her and Laura glared right back. “Fine. Where is he?”

“On the balcony. Do not seduce him,” Laura said firmly.

Daken snarled and turned around to make his way back to the balcony. Behind him he heard Susan’s voice ask quietly, “ _Seduce_ him?”

He could smell Johnny and Ben and burnt popcorn as he reached the half-open sliding door out to the balcony. Daken stepped out to find them in their lawn chairs, flanking the cooler as Ben flicked pieces of popcorn off the roof and Johnny lanced them midair with tiny fireballs. “I’m leaving,” Daken announced. “Have fun with your exciting adventures in daycare.”

Johnny startled and scrambled out of his chair, getting to his feet clumsily. “So- then- you’re fine now?” he stuttered.

“I’m not at fighting weight, but I plan to be ‘fine’ by tomorrow,” Daken replied, crossing his arms and leaning against the door jam. “For now, I just plan on getting the hell out of _here_.”

Johnny frowned. “Okay... why are you being bitchy?”

“Because your _family_ is so _god damned pedantic_ ,” Daken snapped.

“Oh,” Johnny shrugged and nodded and Ben started chuckling. “Yeah, I know. They’re awful about that. You just kind of get used to it.”

“ _You_ can get _used_ to it. _I’m_ getting _out_ of here,” Daken sneered.

“Okay, sure,” Johnny shrugged, glancing away awkwardly. “But, y’know, you don’t have to be _dying_ next time you come by. You can just call to _hang out_ or something.”

“You’re adorable,” Daken sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll call you when I’m done sweeping up all the messes my father made. In about fifty years.”

“Yeah, okay. Maybe we can get a quick lunch sometime between now and then,” Johnny gave a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“I’ll check my schedule,” Daken smirked.

“Take it easy, Daken,” Ben rumbled, gazing placidly out at the skyline as he ate some of the popcorn not reserved for shooting skeet. “And keep your sister in one piece.”

“I doubt either of us is capable of taking it _easy_ ,” Daken scoffed. “But so far I’ve been doing a pretty good job of being a bigger target than her.”

“Ha. Good enough,” Ben grinned.

“Don’t die, okay?” Johnny said, clapping a hand over Daken’s shoulder. “Go do your secret, dangerous ninja stuff, but don’t die this time.”

“Only because you asked nicely,” Daken smirked and took a backwards step, pulling away from Johnny. “Goodbye, Johnny.”

“Can you _please_ say ‘see you later’?” Johnny called after him. “Don’t _die_.”

000

Daken finished his steak and lobster (two complete entrées, not a surf n’ turf combo) and the waitress gave him a look as though she wasn’t sure whether to be disgusted or fascinated when he called her back to order a whole crab with potatoes and greens. “She thinks you are a glutton,” Laura observed with mild amusement, taking small, slow bites of her cheesecake.

“However will I live with the shame of being judged by a waitress,” Daken rolled his eyes, breaking a dinner role in half and buttering it. “Your metabolism’s probably burning hotter than mine at this point since you’re still growing, how many calories do you do in a day?”

“The facility controlled and documented my caloric intake,” Laura said, shrugging with one shoulder. “Now I eat when I am hungry.”

“How often are you hungry?” Daken asked.

Laura tilted her head to the side and considered. “More often than the other students at the schools I have attended.” She took another bite of cheesecake and looked at her fork. “Logan said that I must not attempt to limit myself to the same portions as my peers.”

“Or you’ll end up stunting your growth,” Daken guessed.

“Yes,” Laura nodded.

“Mm, makes you wonder how tall he _should_ have been,” Daken mused, finishing the dinner roll. “I was encouraged to eat everything in sight whether I was hungry or not- although I usually _was_ as an adolescent. To steal and bully a kill for every scrap.”

“You were encouraged to steal and bully and kill for nearly everything, I suppose,” Laura phrased it as a statement rather than a question. “I was not taught bullying. I was taught to be submissive and have very little self awareness.”

Daken nodded slowly, his eyes gliding over her with a searching expression. “... Psylocke seems to think you would be interested in the juvenile sex trade of nineteen-fifties Japan,” he remarked.

Laura considered that and gave a small nod. “I would be interested in as much of it as relates to you,” she replied. “How old?”

“Ten to fourteen. Off and on,” Daken said with a small shrug. “Not just in Japan. We left Japan a few months before I turned twelve, I think.”

Laura nodded. “I was thirteen and fourteen,” she said. She could tell that the statement had caught Daken’s attention, though he was trying to hide his interest. “After I escaped the facility. There were papers my mother had been carrying with her when she... was killed. They led me to believe she may have wanted me to find Logan. It was before the Xavier school had gone public, but I knew that he was frequently seen in New York, so I went there.”

“You didn’t find him,” Daken guessed.

“No. I was found. By a pimp. He discovered that I was conditioned to follow orders unquestioningly, but he did not understand that his were not the only orders I would follow,” Laura explained. “When a girl with a strong personality found me and told me to follow her, I took it as an order and did so. Zebra Daddy was not pleased.”

“ _Zebra--_ ” Daken made a disgusted sound, grimacing and looking so offended that Laura almost felt like laughing. “ _Zebra Daddy? Really?_ So _artless_. _Ergh_.”

“What were you called?” Laura asked, smiling slightly at how entirely Daken was put out by the name.

“Koaome. A bit too apt, but still, _Zebra Daddy? Really?_ ” he scoffed, shaking his head. “So _stupid_. The name alone is a disgrace.”

“Baby Blue-Eyes...” Laura tapped a finger against the plexiglass-covered tabletop. “It is apt.”

“Exoticism sells,” Daken shrugged, still looking disgruntled. “What was your working name?”

“I didn’t have one,” Laura shrugged. “Customers asked for me as ‘the quiet one’ or ‘the creepy one’ or similar.”

“What did the other girls call you?” Daken asked, tilting his head a little and studying her.

“They didn’t usually talk to me.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t talk back,” Laura shrugged again. “I... did not know what to say. I was taught to speak many languages at the facility, but I was never taught what to say.”

Daken nodded slowly. “There was a sort of... script for picking up customers when I was a child. A couple of the other urchins taught me. Taught me how to spot and attract pedophiles. To always take payment in advance. And such like.”

“My pimp arranged my customers for me,” Laura shrugged. “I suppose I was more call-girl than street-walker.” She glanced up at the waitress who was now standing next to the table, a crab dinner on her tray, looking intensely awkward. “Hello. Thank you.”

“Mm, I suppose you had a more regular client base then. Return customers and such,” Daken noted, reaching up and taking his plate off the waitress’s tray as she stared at them, awkward turning to slightly horrified. “When I’d been in one area for a while, I’d end up having regulars come back around looking for me. Ones who were turned on by the ‘exotic’ thing and preferred me over the other available child-whores.” The waitress hurried off very quickly and Laura saw her barely save herself from turning her ankle a few yards away.

A brief silence stretched between them as Daken started eating his crab. Then Laura said, “Now we are _both_ being judged by a waitress.”

Daken started laughing so hard he had to put down his cracker.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my comic-book-science sounds like pretty credible comic-book-science. I used pre-established thingummies and whatnots from the franchises and other similarly scienced type scifi. But I do always feel awkward writing something _absolutely ludicrous_.


	6. Surprise Step Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Th’s’s the worst ‘mergency drill,” Bobby whined.
> 
> “ _Shhh!_ ” Jean hissed. "It’s not a drill. We’re going outside. Bobby, where are your _shoes?_ "
> 
> “What?” Bobby looked down at himself and noted his bare feet and then shrugged. “Wh’tever. Cold. Pfff,” he mumbled.

_Jean. Please wake up._

Jean woke with a small gasp, struggling momentarily with her comforter and throwing herself into a sitting position. _Laura?_ she called, praying she hadn’t just dreamed that.

 _I am outside. Please do not wake the teachers_ , Laura’s ‘voice’ responded.

As relieved as Jean was to hear Laura, to feel the slight touch of her presence at the edge of her perception and know that she was okay and _alive_ , Jean’s stomach twisted because something had to be wrong. _I’ll get the boys and be out in five_ , she said.

 _Thank you_.

 _WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP! Laura’s back! Don’t wake the teachers! Hurry and get dressed and be sneaky-quiet!_ Jean psi-shouted at the rest of her teammates. She felt a jumbled mix of confused, sleepy thoughts, questions and protests. _Something’s going on! She’s waiting outside! Don’t wake the teachers!_

Jean tumbled out of her own bed and staggered to her feet, grabbing her uniform off the back of her desk chair and shimmying into it up to the hips before wrestling with her night shirt. A minute later, she was hopping out into the dimly lit hallway, trying to get her second boot on and silently cursing her tangled hair.

Bobby was leaned against the wall a few yards away, rubbing his eyes and seeming to have entirely forgotten his own boots. “Th’s’s the worst ‘mergency drill,” he whined.

“ _Shhh!_ ” Jean hissed. _It’s not a drill!_

Hank was the next to make it to the hall, his hair smooshed to one side and goggles held between his teeth as he pulled on his gloves. Scott was a few seconds later, stumbling and still half asleep, but fully dressed. Warren came out cussing and fluttering and hadn’t managed to finish getting the upper half of his uniform situated.

“R’lly? S’ _that_ hard t’ put on y’r shirt?” Bobby snorted.

“Oh I’d like to see _you_ try it!” Warren snarled, flapping for emphasis as he tried to get the zips on his shoulders together.

“ _Shhh!_ ” Jean ducked between his wings and did up the zippers as he made a quiet sound of protest but turned his attention to getting the front closed. _We’re going outside. Bobby, where are your shoes?_

“What?” Bobby looked down at himself and noted his bare feet and then shrugged. “Wh’tever. Cold. Pfff,” he mumbled.

 _Be quiet. We don’t want to wake the teachers_ , Jean said, giving a sharp wave of her hand as she headed for the east entrance.

“Why?” Scott whispered.

 _Because Laura said not to_ , Jean shot back.

“Is she okay?” Warren asked softly.

 _We’ll find out in a minute_ , Jean replied. They reached the door and she braced herself as she finished keying in the combination and the freezing air hit her. She hurried out, feet crunching in the snow that was still only a few inches deep, not the ten-plus feet it would be when _actual_ winter got here. “ _Laura!_ ” she hissed.

“Here,” Laura’s voice called calmly back and a lantern clicked on a few yards away.

“ _Laura!_ Where- uh-” Warren started and then faltered as they noticed the (really beautiful) man standing next to Laura. He apparently had very little understanding of personal space, his arm resting casually on her shoulder as he eyed the group of them with a raised eyebrow and a slowly spreading frown. “Um, hi?” Warren mumbled, crunching to a stop a few feet in front of them as the rest of the team caught up.

“I apologize for not contacting you sooner,” Laura said quietly. “I was abducted. It was related to Logan’s death. There were... reasons I could not leave sooner than I did.”

“You were _kidnapped?_ ” Jean gasped, her eyes turning to the mystery man. She quickly squelched that momentary, irrational suspicion; if he had been the culprit, Laura wouldn’t be standing with him right now.

“By _who?_ ” Scott demanded.

“The leader called himself ‘Shogun’,” Laura shook her head. “That isn’t important anymore. They had more audacity than competence. Most of them have gotten themselves killed.” She turned, glancing up at the man with her. “This is Daken. My brother,” she said.

Jean felt a collective ‘oh’ from her teammates and Bobby started laughing. “Warren, your _face!_ You were all like ‘Oh _nooo!_ Laura found a prettier man than me! What will I _dooo?_ ’”

“Not the time, Bobby,” Scott sighed.

“Laura, please explain to me what I’m looking at here,” the man, Daken, said, making an expansive gesture at the team and grimacing.

“... There was a time-travel incident,” Laura said.

“You _X-Men_ and your _time-travel_ ,” Daken groaned, slapping a hand against his forehead and then sighed. “But yes, your little seraph boy is very pretty. Well done.”

“Uh, th-thank you...?” Warren mumbled awkwardly. “I... have the utmost respect for Laura?”

“Jean _don’t_ ,” Laura snapped suddenly, grabbing Jean’s arm.

“Huh?” Jean turned to her, feeling slightly dazed. She’d been looking at Daken, confused by something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. It was like he was all wrapped up in barbed wire.

“Don’t touch his mind. It’s booby-trapped,” Laura said firmly.

“And also you shouldn’t be _touching_ people without _permission_ ,” Daken shot her a glare.

“I wasn’t! I just- I- You looked weird and--”

“ _Rude_ ,” Daken smirked.

“Not _physically_ ,” Jean protested, feeling her cheeks heat up. “I mean you’re totally- It’s just-”

“Yeah, keep stepping in it, Jean,” Bobby snickered.

“Shut _up_ , Bobby,” Jean snapped.

“Stop _touching_ people, Jean. _Bad touch_.”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

“You’re not coming back,” Hank said suddenly and everyone turned to look at him. “That’s why you didn’t want us to wake up any teachers. You’re not back. You’re leaving again.”

Laura nodded soberly. “There is something we have to do.”

“We?” Warren asked, a hopeful, eager note in his voice.

“Daken and I,” Laura clarified and Warren’s wings slumped a little. “I’m sorry. I can’t say much right now, but I wanted to tell you that I am all right and I will return when I am able. There are... things which Daken and I must see to first.”

“B-but maybe there’s something we can-- Oh!” Jean yelped as they were all suddenly blinded by a flash of yellow light, their eyes having grown accustomed to the near darkness.

“Five little kiddies out of their bunkies,” Professor Magik’s voice drawled. “Hi, Laura. Daken followed you home, huh? I think you and Scott might be having _words_ about that.”

“Professor, please, we were just--”

“We are not staying,” Laura said firmly. “I only wished to check in with my team.”

“Outside. In the snow. In the dead of night,” Professor Magik noted, sounding more amused than accusing.

“I did not wish to alert the teachers to my presence. They would try to _help_ ,” Laura explained.

“ _I’m_ a teacher,” Professor Magik pointed out.

“You are different,” Laura said, crossing her arms. “You are reasonable.”

Professor Magik laughed. “That is the _opposite_ of what most people would say. Chalk it up to speaking the same language I guess,” she grinned at Laura. “One thing that’s bugging me though: he _wreaks_ of Celestial energy,” Professor pointed her soul-sword at Daken, holding it so the tip was an inch from his throat as he glared back at her, not shying away at all. “If I’m not too much mistaken, I’d say we’ve got us a little baby Apocalypse right here.”

“... You are not mistaken,” Laura said quietly.

“Uhuh. And you’re just gonna ignore that and go globe-trotting with baby-Apocalypse until he blows up on you?” Professor Magik asked, tilting her head to the side, long hair swaying and exaggerating the motion.

“That will not happen. Daken is strong enough to defeat it,” Laura answered, her expression grim.

“Maybe. But you’re one of Kitty’s kiddies and I’m thinking, why take the chance? It’s an easy enough problem to solve right now.”

There were two simultaneous flashes. “ _Daken!_ ” Laura shouted, lunging to the spot where her brother had been standing a moment earlier. “ _No!_ _Damn_ you, Rasputin! _Bring him back!_ ” she screamed at empty air.

000

Most people probably wouldn’t describe fire and brimstone as ‘homey’. When she touched down in Limbo, Illyana breathed a sigh and for a precious moment, she stopped clinging to her humanity and let her horns show. Daken didn’t seem to find the transition nearly so relaxing. He landed a few yards off, facing away from her; his claws were out the next second and he was snarling and whipping around, looking utterly livid and thoroughly disoriented. The particular grimace he was making, the way he wrinkled his nose, made Illyana smirk, the sharp tang of sulfur in the air must be playing havoc on his heightened senses.

“Where the _hell_ have you _taken_ me?” he demanded, charging forward and stopping with the points of his claws right in her face, just shy of blinding her.

Illyana laughed darkly. “The answer is in the question,” she said. “Welcome to Limbo, Daken.”

“I will take you _apart_ a _piece at a time_ if--”

Daken was cut off by a huge, purple hand grabbing him around the neck and yanking him into the air. “ _Hey_ now, is _that_ any way to talk to a queen?” Sym demanded, squeezing Daken’s throat as he struggled and tried in vain to slice through the demon’s tough hide.

“Put him down, Sym. He’s just a little flustered,” Illyana ordered, casting Daken a smirk. He glared viciously at her as he was set back on his feet. “Sorry. I guess that was a bit sudden, but I didn’t really feel like making this a class field-trip or arguing with Laura forever. Don’t worry, we’re all friends here.”

“Oh? Then pray tell, _friend_ : _why_ did you bring me here?” Daken growled, clearly analyzing her for weak points and debating his next angle of attack.

“Because you’ve been chugging the Apocalypse koolaid and now you’re a bomb waiting to go off,” Illyana replied, leaning one hand on her hip as the other loosely gripped the handle of her soul-sword. “And frankly, I have less confidence in your mental fortitude than Laura seems to.”

“And you plan to _cauterize_ the infection,” Daken’s eyes narrowed and his lips pulled back from his teeth a little more.

“I plan to eliminate it entirely,” Illyana corrected. “Now hold still so Doctor Magik can _fix_ you,” she shifted and brought her soul-sword up, gripping it with both hands and readying to strike. Daken made another lunge toward her. “ _Hold him!_ ” she shouted. Sym and several dozen of her most sycophantic subjects were swarming Daken the next moment, grabbing and scratching at him as he cut into them and bellowed his outrage.

He managed to dice quite a few of them before the sheer numbers of clinging, biting, scrabbling vermin had overwhelmed and immobilized him. Illyana leapt into the fray with an earth-shaking shriek and disregarded the demons that crumpled under her hoofs as she landed on them and stabbed her soul-sword down through the center of Daken’s chest. She watched him seize and foam, his cursing abating as his eyes rolled back, and concentrated, dragging her soul-sword out sideways with a hefty jerk. Had it been made of steel or any earthly metal, she would have just sliced Daken most of the way in half.

The Celestial miasma clung to her blade for a few seconds before she banished it with a thought, and Illyana smirked to herself in satisfaction as she hopped back down to the craggy ground. “All right, boys and girls, that’s enough!” she called to her subjects. “Let him go!”

The members of the hoard that hadn’t been cut open by Daken’s claws or crushed under Illyana’s hooves melted back a few feet. They crouched, watching with keen, hungry eyes as Daken lay prone on the barren rocks, shaking violently and staring sightlessly up at the sky. Illyana stowed her soul-sword and wandered over, kicking a few small demon bodies out of the way and nudging Daken with a hoof. “Come on now, big boy. You’re not going to let a little thing like being stabbed in the chest keep you down, are you? You’re disappointing me here, Daken,” she sang, smirking.

Daken’s hand whipped out and grabbed at her leg, digging in his fingers in and growling as his eyes struggled to focus. “... You’re going to regret not finishing me in the first blow.”

“Finish you? Why would I want to do _that?_ ” Illyana laughed. “I have no interest in _killing_ you, Daken. Actually, I kinda _like_ you.”

She could see confusion and suspicion playing across his face as he looked up at her and started to gather himself off the ground. “... What did you do?” he hissed.

“I told you. I can’t have Laura running around with an Apocalypse pledge-boy, so I fixed the problem,” Illyana replied with a casual shrug. “Limbo is _my_ domain and in it _I_ am queen and goddess. In _this_ realm, no other god can stand before me.”

The confusion on Daken’s face won out over suspicion and for a moment his eyes went distant again, and as he crouched, having gotten ready to stand but not quite managed it yet, he touched a hand lightly to the side of his head and frowned. “... It’s gone...” he whispered. “... You...”

“Cut out the infection,” Illyana agreed with a nod. She watched Daken climb slowly to his feet, eyes a little wide, still not looking at her as he seemed to mentally check himself over. “I could take you back now, if you want, but there’s no hurry,” she drawled.

“Laura seems to think there is,” Daken murmured, smoothing a hand through his hair and finally glancing at her, eyes wary but the murderous fury was gone.

“Not here. Time and space are mine to command just like everything else in Limbo. You could stay for a year and get home a second after you left,” Illyana explained casually. “It’s demonic Narnia. So maybe you could stick around for a few hours and thank me for the divine intervention,” she suggested.

Daken raised a perfect eyebrow, looking her over with a suspicious frown. “Thank you how?” he asked.

“Y’know, a card or a fruit-basket is nice and all, but I’m thinking something a little more carnal,” she replied. “And I don’t mean an aged-cheeses-and-summer-sausage-basket.”

“... How old are you?” Daken asked, tilting his head slightly.

Illyana shrugged. “Like I said, time’s a little hard to tell around here. Probably somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty.”

“Fifty?”

“I don’t age. I looked like this the day I was ‘born’ and I’ll look like this the day I’m violently killed,” she said.

“Ah,” Daken nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer. He did, after all, have ample experience with watching the world age around him while he remained largely untouched by the ravages of time.

“So... ever fucked a demon-queen?”

“No, but I’m just _sure_ that was on my bucket-list.”

000

“ _Damn_ you, Rasputin! _Bring him back!_ ” Laura screamed.

“Calm your _tits_ , Laura! You’re going to wake up the whole neighborhood!” Magik’s voice called as another flash of light erupted behind her. Laura whipped around to find Magik and Daken both reappearing in the snow bank.

“ _What did you do?_ ” Laura demanded, glaring at Magik and then squinting to examine Daken in the near darkness. He looked relaxed and entirely unharmed. His X-Men jacket had been traded for a fashionable wool pea coat.

“Solved the problem,” Magik replied with a shrug and a grin. “You’re welcome.”

“She cut the Celestial energy out of me,” Daken elaborated, sauntering through the snow to stand next to Laura and offer her a pleased smirk. “That sword of hers really is a rather impressive tool. I’m almost jealous.”

Laura stared at him for a moment, her breath catching. “... You cured him?” she whispered, something quiet and ugly simmering just behind hope and relief in her mind.

“Yep. Now he’s just a regular psycho instead of a possessed psycho,” Magik said glibly.

“... You could have saved Archangel...” Laura breathed as the ugly realization curdled into anger and started building toward outright rage.

“‘ _Saved’_ is a bit of a stretch,” Magik said, giving another dismissive shrug. “I could have cleansed him of his deathseed, but let’s face it, by the time I came along, there wasn’t much left to ‘save’.”

“You _let_ him _die!_ ” Laura snarled, hands clenching into fists at her sides.

“Mutantkind was on the brink of _extinction_ , Laura!” Magik snapped, abruptly losing her flippancy and focusing a glare on Laura. “We didn’t _need_ a candy-ass yuppie, we needed a _killing-machine!_ How many Purifiers did Archangel slaughter _all on his own?!_ ” she demanded. “How many of your old classmates would still be _alive_ if he’d gone off the rails a few months earlier? So _yeah_ , I didn’t _‘help’_ him.”

“... ‘Archangel’...?” Laura heard Warren whisper behind her, a small tremor in his voice.

“... You _killed_ him,” Laura accused coldly.

“I’d do it again,” Magik said.

Laura extended her claws and her lips pulled back from her teeth.

“Relax. The situation’s changed and so have the players,” Magik shifted back to a nonchalant tone and glanced behind Laura, presumably looking at Warren. “By the time the next Purifiers or Friends of Humanity or Sapien League crops up, we’ll have rebuilt our ranks. Desperate times called for desperate measures, but the future’s looking a little less desperate now than it did back then.”

“Laura.” Daken rested a hand on her shoulder. “She’s right. From a tactical standpoint, she made the right decision for that time and that situation,” he said. “She may well have saved half or more of Utopia’s population simply through her inaction.”

Laura growled and clenched her jaw, relaxing the muscles in her forearms and letting her claws slide back in. “... I think Cyclops might not see it that way,” she said darkly.

“Ooh, are you going to _tell_ on me?” Magik asked with a smirk.

Laura glared at her a moment longer and then turned away. She crunched a few steps back over to Warren and stood in front of him, clenching her jaw for a moment as her stomach churned anxiously. Magik wouldn’t hurt him. Daken was right, her decision had been tactical, and there was no tactical reason to harm _this_ Warren, either actively or inactively. And she seemed to take her responsibility for them and her promise to Kitty Pryde seriously.

“There is something Daken and I must do. As quickly as possible,” she said calmly, looking up at Warren, who was frowning; looking worried, she supposed. “I will contact you again soon,” she promised.

“We can help,” Warren said, almost whining, and his hand reached out to catch hers.

Laura shook her head. “This task requires stealth and secrecy more than anything. It is better for Daken and I to do alone.”

Warren bit his lip, glancing away for a moment, before looking at her again, something hesitant, reluctant in his eyes. “... How many people _did_... Archangel...”

“They were Purifiers. They were murderers. And it doesn’t matter,” Laura said, shaking her head.

He looked down, nodding.

“I will--” Laura started and then tensed up in surprise as Warren grabbed her around the waist suddenly and kissed her. It wasn’t a deep kiss; it didn’t attest arousal, perhaps it was simply meant to convey concern or affection? It was... sweet?

She heard a cat-call; Bobby, no doubt. When Warren let her go and took a step back, she felt Jean at her right and turned to find the other girl apparently deliberately averting her gaze during the kiss before glancing up at Laura. “We’ll be waiting. For you to get back,” she said quietly. “After you finish your stealth mission, we can help with whatever comes next. We want to help. You’re our teammate and you’re our _friend_.”

Laura nodded slowly, feeling uncomfortable. “... Thank you,” she said softly.

“Well, you two obviously have a _thing_ to do, and these kids need to get back in bed now so that I can kick their asses all over the Danger Room tomorrow,” Magik announced. “Say goodnight, everybody.”

“Are we really just going to--” Scott started before Jean shot a look at him and must have said something telepathically to make him settle and press his lips into a thin, unhappy line.

“Good luck, Laura. I hope you find him,” Hank said. Clever boy.

“Uh, _who?_ ” Bobby asked, casting him a frown. “Why does _Beast_ know about the _super secret_ plan and _I_ don’t?”

“That’s a _good_ question,” Daken muttered in a quiet, annoyed tone only Laura could hear.

“Say goodnight, Bobby,” Jean commanded sternly.

“ _Goodnight_ , _Bobby_ ,” Bobby mocked, crossing his arms and looking irritated.

“Be safe, Laura,” Jean said, catching Laura’s hand and squeezing it briefly before stepping back.

“Come back okay,” Scott said. His visor covered his eyebrows, but there was a wrinkle on his forehead showing that they were drawn in.

“I will,” Laura said with a nod. “Thank you.”

“Oh look! They ran away! Nothing I could do!” Magik announced, throwing her hands in the air and feigning a startled expression. “Welp, _they’re_ long gone. Better get back to bed now.” She waved at Laura’s teammates in a shooing gesture. “Go on. Off you go. Bed time.”

“... Thank you, Magik,” Laura said.

“I can’t hear you, since you’re already a million miles away and there was nothing I could do to stop you!” Magik replied, giving Warren and Scott pushes to send them on their way. “Bobby, where are your _shoes?_ ” she demanded, grimacing as she chased Laura’s team back toward the east entrance.

“Shoes are for pansies!” Bobby shot back.

000

It was late afternoon when they arrived in Pago Pago and Laura took them wandering until they found a hotel with a vacancy. Daken watched her sit heavily down on the edge of one of the queen-size beds with a sigh followed by a yawn. “You don’t get to fall asleep until you tell me _what we’re doing_ ,” Daken informed her, irritation at the day’s continued, _constant_ secrecy sharpening his voice.

Laura glanced up at him and offered an annoyed look. “You bathed,” she accused.

“... I do that sometimes,” Daken replied, tossing his jacket onto the other bed and giving her a cool look.

“In Limbo,” Laura elaborated.

“It was convenient.”

“You slept with my teacher.”

“It was her idea,” Daken shrugged. “And _you_ are changing the subject. It is about damn time you told me w _ho_ we are supposedly _rescuing_.”

Laura cast him another annoyed look and then nodded, glancing away. “Capricorn,” she said.

Daken had been out of her sight less than an hour in the past twelve; her paranoia over a Mystique incursion was getting a little ridiculous, but he played along because it was quicker and easier than arguing. “Tori,” he responded.

“Our brother,” Laura answered.

Daken stared at her silently for several minutes. “Our brother,” he echoed at length, unable to come up with anything wittier to say.

“He is an infant. Likely around three months old,” Laura said, looking up at Daken.

Daken continued to stare at her for a while longer before piecing together the next logical question. “And Mystique has him because...?”

“She is his mother,” Laura answered.

That was a perfectly logical reason, which presented a certain moralistic question. “You want to kidnap a baby from his mother?”

“She will twist him. Maybe abuse him. She will make him as horrible as herself,” Laura said calmly. “I have seen it.”

Daken raised an eyebrow. “... You’ve ‘seen it’?”

Laura nodded. “I told you. There was a time-travel incident,” she said.

Daken let out a heavy sigh. “Damnable X-Men _time-travel_ nonsense,” he groaned, shaking his head.

“Mystique has kept Raze a secret and I don’t think she knows about that particular time-travel incident. She may very well believe that nobody knows he even exists,” Laura said, looking back down at the carpet. “That is to our advantage.”

“‘Raze’...” Daken tested the sound of the name, considering it briefly before glancing down at Laura again. “So where is he? Madripoor, I suppose.”

“I would assume so,” Laura agreed.

“... You don’t know,” Daken grimaced.

“No.”

“So, what, you want to just _wander_ around Madripoor hoping you’ll pick up his _scent_ before anyone notices us?” Daken demanded.

Laura shook her head. “If we could catch his scent then so could Sabertooth. I doubt Mystique trusts him that much.”

“So your plan is you don’t have a plan,” Daken crossed his arms and prickled with irritation. Emotion was too close to the surface, he was tired from too long and too exciting a day.

“I have a plan,” Laura said calmly. “There is somebody who will know where she is keeping him. So we will need to get him first.”

Daken raised an eyebrow. “Oh, it’s as simple as that, is it?”

Laura shook her head again. “We will need to break into a SHIELD super-max penitentiary to get him,” she said.

Daken felt a slight, involuntary grin tug at the corners of his lips. “Well _now_ it’s getting interesting.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't read the New Mutants comics, Illyana Rasputin's soul-sword cuts through the spirit rather than the flesh and cleanses enchantments and other mind-controlling sorts of agents (also works on techno-organic viruses). A comment made by Cytorak during Fear Itself and then her exchange with Piotr at the end of AvX tells us that while in Limbo she can clean divine avatarhood out of somebody, and I'm pretty sure Apocalypse or Death would fall into that category (although Marvel is a little fast and loose about whether Celestial-stuff is tech or mystic, but if it can un-TO somebody, why not un-Celestial-tech).
> 
> Marvel Wikia tells me that The Cage is somewhere in the Pacific. I decided on the south Pacific and picked Pago Pago (American Samoa) as a beachhead because it uses US currency and a couple of American tourists are less likely to be noticed or questioned there than other places in that area. Next chapter: unlawful _shenanigans_.


	7. Step Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raze tried to decide what kind of accent the man had (something European? maybe Romantic?) and considered the hat. It _was_ an official SHIELD hat, the prison guards just didn’t usually wear them. But it looked like this guy might be trying to camouflage a non-regulation haircut. Douche-bag.

“You have more experience with infiltration and espionage than me,” Laura said as they sat at the small table in their hotel room, scribbling on a little complimentary notepad while the local time approached midnight. “You’ve broken into super-max facilities before.”

“And out again without leaving a trace I was ever there. Apart from a corpse,” Daken agreed. “And of course, if _you_ were to be spotted or caught on camera at any point, SHIELD would have the most _excellent_ reason to declare all out war on Cyclops.”

Laura nodded. “Do you think you can do it alone?” she asked.

“Laura, _please_ ,” Daken scoffed, casting her a look of deep offense.

“Do you think you can do it without killing any SHIELD personnel?”

Daken raised an eyebrow. “Shall I just tie my hands behind my back as well?” he asked.

“Regardless of whether either of us are caught on camera--”

“I won’t be.”

“--given how he came into SHIELD’s custody in the first place, Director Hill will likely suspect the involvement of the X-Men or somebody associated with the X-Men,” Laura explained calmly. “And if a single SHIELD agent or staff member of the installation were killed during this mission, it would be ample grounds for her to go after Cyclops. With or without evidence.”

Daken wrinkled his nose and it was obvious that he saw and agreed with the logic.

“If you don’t think you’re competent to perform the mission--”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“--without incurring fatalities, it would probably be better for me to do it myself,” Laura said.

Daken glared at her silently for a few moments. “ _You_ are _goading_ me,” he accused.

“I am being practical,” Laura replied.

“ _Fine_ ,” Daken hissed. “No _killing_.”

“Do you think you can handle that?” Laura asked, tilting her head to the side.

Daken’s glare intensified. “You think I _can’t_.”

“I question whether you might forget yourself in the heat of the moment,” Laura said. “We cannot afford mistakes.”

“I don’t _make_ mistakes,” Daken snapped.

Laura snorted. “I have seen you make mistakes,” she quipped.

“I will _do_ your stupid little _rescue_ mission and I will _do_ it like one of your stupid little _heroes_ would do it!” Daken declared.

Laura frowned, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. “If you botch this mission--”

“ _I don’t botch missions!_ ” Daken nearly shouted.

000

“Laura was here?” Irma asked suddenly during breakfast, turning to look at Bobby. “ _When?_ ” she and her sisters asked in unison, all staring at him.

“ _Bobby!_ ” Jean snapped.

Bobby dropped his fork with a clatter and scrubbed irritably at his hair. “ _Damn it_ , I didn’t _say_ anything! Why can’t a guy even _think_ around here without an _audience?!_ ” he demanded.

“You three, _knock_ it off. You know that’s against the rules,” Kitty snapped, pointing a finger sharply at the Cuckoos. “My team, with me. Now.” She pushed herself away from the table and waved them toward the door.

“But _breakfast!_ ” Bobby protested.

“ _Now_. All of you,” Kitty commanded.

“Best not to argue,” Hank murmured, patting Bobby on the back as he climbed out of his chair. “I’ve a feeling we’re in enough trouble already.”

“I’m very disappointed in you, Mindy,” Bobby said, shooting Irma a pout. “I _thought_ we were bros.”

“I’m not a _‘bro’_ ,” Irma said, wrinkling her nose.

“ _Clearly_.”

Kitty’s team gathered themselves up guiltily and followed her out of the dining hall. As she marched them toward the control room, she spotted Emma headed the other way; the blonde raised a curious eyebrow. “Well _you_ look fit to be tied, darling,” she noted.

“Care to join us? I think this may merit a multi-teacher interrogation,” Kitty said.

“Ooh, how could I resist such dire intrigue,” Emma said with a smirk and changed course to walk alongside Kitty. “Whatever has you so flustered, Kitten?”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Kitty replied, ushering her team into the control room as Scott turned from the computer bank to look at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Rather than answer, Kitty turned to her team and asked, “ _When_ was Laura here?” Her team glanced at each other and Kitty had the _distinct_ feeling that Jean was conducting a silent conversation between them. “ _Bobby?_ ” Kitty narrowed her eyes at her youngest and most crackable student.

“Why is everybody _bullying_ me?!” Bobby exclaimed, grabbing his hair and scrunching up his face.

“Last night,” Scotty answered instead, taking charge. “She told us she’d been kidnapped but she was okay now. She said she couldn’t stay because there was something she had to take care of.”

“Any idea what that is?” Scott moved to join Kitty and Emma in looming over the squirming students.

“She didn’t say,” Jean said.

“She didn’t _say_ , but?” Emma prompted, raising an eyebrow and giving Jean a _look_.

“She didn’t _think_ it either,” Jean snapped, glaring back at Emma. “Laura _knows_ how to compartmentalize her thoughts and she kept whatever she was planning hidden from me.”

Emma sighed, grimacing. “Like father like daughter...” she said wistfully.

Kitty glanced at Warren, who was biting his lip and looking very much like he had something to say. “Warr--” Kitty started.

“ _Warren, don--_ ” Jean gasped at the same moment.

“Who’s Daken?” Warren asked, drowning out both of them with the sheer weight of the question and the implications entailed in his asking. There were several seconds of silence as the teachers all stared at him. “I- I mean, she sort of- she said he was her _brother_ but- it’s just- he was kind of... creepy,” Warren flustered.

“She’s with _Daken?!_ ” Kitty asked, a chill running down her spine.

“She brought him _here?_ ” Scott demanded, a distinct edge of anger entering his voice.

“Uh... no?” Warren paled at the tone and tried to back-peddle.

“I know where they’re going,” Hank said quietly, examining the floor, and everyone’s attention turned abruptly to him. “Or rather, I know what they’re trying to _do_ ,” he amended.

“Care to _enlighten_ us, Mister McCoy?” Emma asked, a dangerous coolness underpinning her words.

“... A couple months ago, after Xavier Junior and Raze attacked us here, I was talking to Laura about it,” Hank said carefully. “She wondered why they came back to _now_ , to try to send us back home to _our_ time, instead of going back to last year and trying to prevent the older me from bringing us here in the _first_ place,” he explained. “And I- I hypothesized that they were trying not to disrupt their own timelines. They didn’t want to do anything that would prevent themselves from being born. Why they chose _now_ (or rather three months ago) was that it was the earliest date they felt they could alter without endangering their own existence. In other words, it was just after whichever of them is younger had been _born_.”

“... They’re going after Raze,” Scott said, frowning deeply.

“They’re going after a _baby_ ,” Emma corrected and crossed her arms. “ _Mystique’s_ baby. Those idiots are planning to take _Mystique_ on alone.”

“No they’re not!” Jean blurted, looking up. “That’s- I- I picked something up from Laura last night. Mystique’s involved with the people who kidnapped her. She’s- she’s not at _home_ right now,” she said, sounding slightly doubtful. “That’s why Laura’s in a hurry. She must want to find baby-Raze before Mystique catches on.”

“Oy gevalt,” Kitty rubbed her hands over her face. “And she’s enlisted _Daken_ somehow. I do _not_ want to know why _he’s_ on board.”

“Well, Raze would be _his_ brother too,” Bobby reasoned, frowning. “And it seemed like he and Laura were pretty close, right?” he glanced to his teammates for confirmation. The others nodded.

“... _What?_ ” Emma stared at them, looking baffled and horrified.

“Since _when?_ ” Kitty demanded.

“Um, I think maybe we’re missing some history here?” Scotty said, frowning in confusion at the adults’ expressions. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious you don’t like this guy, but Laura seemed pretty relaxed with him.”

“This is getting _weird_ ,” Kitty said, hugging her arms and shaking her head, “ _er_.”

“... Laura’s a practical girl,” Scott said quietly, obviously trying to figure out the math.

“She’s in _mourning_ , Scott,” Emma snapped. “Rational people do irrational things when they’re _mourning_.”

“That’s it though, isn’t it,” Scott turned to look at her. “Logan’s dead. He was the entire focus of Daken’s life for decades. Daken’s sense of purpose just evaporated.” He nodded to himself, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “He’s become directionless and Laura’s taken advantage of that.”

“Then she’s playing a _dangerous_ game,” Emma said darkly. “And why doesn’t Daken hate _Laura?_ Or what’s to stop him from starting _now?_ She’d be the perfect target for his _daddy-issues_ related anger.”

Kitty groaned in frustration, grinding the heel of her hand against her temple. “... I’m going to talk to Jubilee,” she decided. “Laura kind of opens up to her. She might... know something.”

000

Raze was laying on the floor, stomping his feet against the door. They’d taken away his shoes a month ago; maybe they thought he’d stop doing it or maybe they just figured he couldn’t make as much noise without shoes. Jokes on them though, that just meant he had to stomp _harder_ to make up the volume. The power inhibitor may have been slowing his healing factor to a pathetic limp, but it wasn’t like he had anywhere to limp _to_ , so why should he care if his feet were bruised to the point of bleeding? The pain gave him something less shitty than _confinement_ to focus on and at least he was pissing people off and sharing the misery.

One of the night guards particularly hated his stomping, so Raze had taken to sleeping during the day in order to save up. The other inmates in his block had more or less gotten used to it. It still pissed them off, but most of them had learned to sleep through the persistent thumping. He counted three of the small bones in his feet broken tonight and generating sharper lances of pain than the bruised flesh around them when he stomped. He stared up at the blank ceiling and idly counted as he slammed his feet into the door over and over, the ritual almost Zen by now.

Pissing off dick-heads.  
Ruining your night with noise.  
Go fuck yourself, SHIELD.

He heard the security-lock on the door disengage and grinned to himself. It wasn’t feeding time at the zoo and it wasn’t time to take him for his daily walk around the exercise yard, so the fact that somebody was opening his door meant that Raze had pissed the bastards off enough to merit a cussing out, maybe even a kick. Small victories. He lifted his head as the door opened to look at the SHIELD dick-head standing on the other side. Then he frowned, puzzled, and sniffed. Once. Twice. What the fuck? His nose was telling him nobody was there. Well _shit_. He’d officially gone crazy and started hallucinating. It was bound to happen eventually.

The ghost tilted his head slightly and gave Raze a frown that was equal parts curious and disdainful. “What _are_ you doing?” he asked.

“You must be _new_ ,” Raze replied with a smirk, hoping his nose was hallucinating and not his eyes and ears. “Get used to it, _fucker_. No peaceful nights in _this_ shit-hole.”

The guard’s lip curled up into a repulsed sneer. “Oh _please_ tell me that wasn’t an indicator of your working vocabulary,” he said. Raze tried to decide what kind of accent the man had (something European? maybe Romantic?) and considered the hat. It _was_ an official SHIELD hat, the prison guards just didn’t usually wear them. But it looked like this guy might be trying to camouflage a non-regulation haircut. Douche-bag.

“I’d flick you off, but, _y’know_ ,” Raze grinned and held up his titanium mittens.

The guard gave him a pained look and sighed deeply. He stepped over Raze’s legs, clicking a remote-key to close the door behind him, and walked over to the security camera, his head tilted down so the brim of his hat shaded his face. He took a mini spray-can out of his pocket and sprayed black paint onto the camera’s lens without looking up at it.

“ _Oooh_ , are you gonna beat me up?” Raze asked, curling forward to sit up. “You should have just let the camera roll. I mean, battering inmates is one thing, but _damaging_ SHIELD property? Say goodbye to your _pension_ , ass-hole.”

The man grabbed his inhibitor collar and Raze gagged as he was yanked a little more upright. “ _Please_ do me a favor and stop _speaking_ , Raze. Your crass pedestrianism is depressing me in ways I can’t even articulate.”

Raze went quiet; not because the man had _asked_ , but because nobody running this roach-motel should know his _name_. He’d refused to give it and he was sure Charles hadn’t. That was how each of them could always know the other hadn’t been broken: if the SHIELD ass-holes didn’t know names, their partner couldn’t have flipped on them. The way the guards had been referring to Raze by number alone since his arrival was the only form of communication he and Charles had had the last three months. It was really the _absence_ of communication, but it served to convey the most important thing either of them could offer each other. Trust. They were in it together. Neither would sell the other out.

If Charles _had_ been broken, it would be somebody with a bit of rank who lorded it over Raze in an interrogation room, not a night guard. Somebody had sent this guy, and given the fact that he now seemed to be taking off Raze’s inhibitor collar, this would _appear_ to be some sort of rescue. But the attitude coming out of this guy wasn’t Charles controlling someone remotely, and he wasn’t acting like a post-hypnotic-whatevers meat-puppet either. And if Charles wasn’t the one behind this ‘rescue’, then the only people in this time who knew about Raze, knew his name, would probably be more interested in staging an _assassination_ than a rescue. Well _fuck_ that.

He heard a click and felt his inhibitor collar deactivate and loosen. He stayed still as the guard pulled it off of him and waited until his hands were a little farther away from Raze’s throat before moving. Raze abruptly launched himself to his feet and clocked the man across the face with one of his mittens before softening the bones in his hands and shucking the damned things off. Then he went after the bastard with claws out. “ _Who the fuck are you?!_ ” he demanded as he lunged.

Being punched in the face with a metal boxing glove apparently didn’t faze this guy much and he was _damn_ fast. The heel of his palm hit Raze’s sternum hard enough to crack it and slammed him back into the wall, knocking his head against the concrete and the breath out of his lungs. By the time Raze had managed to blink away the daze and refocus, he found himself staring up the length of two long, slender claws, positioned an inch or two from his eyes and emerging from the top of the guard’s right hand.

He probably wasn’t really a prison guard, Raze decided.

“Let’s try some new words, please. You’ve used that one already,” the man suggested.

“... Who are you?” Raze whispered, staring at the man and trying to think of every encyclopedia article and historical data-pack Charles had made him read before they came here and he had _no idea_ _who this guy was_.

“I would hope you’re at least bright enough to figure _that_ one out,” the man sneered, drawing back his arm and holding it up as he slowly retracted his claws. “I would think these are a generous enough clue. They’re fairly _distinctive_ , after all.”

“What’s your name?” Raze asked, giddy curiosity quickening his pulse and he could feel an excited grin tugging at his lips.

“This is hardly the place for twenty-questions,” the man replied, letting Raze go and fishing the remote-key out of his pocket. “I’m told you take after your mother. Do you think you could change into something a little less conspicuous so that we can get out of here?”

Raze bit his lip. “No.”

The man sighed irritably. “How _long_ will it take you to burn through the sedatives then? The longer we linger the more likely it is that someone will actually take notice the security camera is out.”

“No, I mean- I’m not leaving without Charles,” Raze said.

The man glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Who?” he asked.

“My brother.”

The man’s eyebrow went a little higher.

“... Through Mom,” Raze elaborated. “I’m _guessing_ you’re from the other side of the family.”

The man grimaced irritably and muttered under his breath. “ _Damn_ it. Could have _warned_ me. Like she _wanted_ this to fail,” he groused. “... What block is he in?”

“I don’t know. Not this one,” Raze shook his head.

The man groaned and ground his hand against his eye.

“I can _find_ him. It’ll just take a minute,” Raze said quickly. “Walk up and down a few halls, I’ll scent him. This place isn’t _that_ big.”

“... And that’s what it’s going to take to get _you_ out of here, isn’t it?” the man asked, casting him a glare.

“Yup.”

“Fine,” the man nodded. “We’re going to need alternate transportation then, because _somebody_ neglected to tell me there were _two_ of you in here.”

Raze shifted into the image of the usual nighttime guard as he shredded up his prison uniform with his claws, relishing both sensations. It was so so good to be back in control of his body and rid of that awful poly-cotton _shit_. “There’s planes. They’ll have that SHIELD cloaking tech, so once we take off, we can disappear,” Raze noted, kicking the last bits of fabric off and grinning at his rescuer. A brother, maybe?

“And I suppose you know how to _fly_ a SHIELD stealth jet,” the man crossed his arms and gave him a dubious look.

“Charles can take care of that,” Raze said, then frowned. “They’ve probably got him doped up though... He’s not going to be able to just shake it once the collar comes off like me. But he’ll probably have enough juice to get us out of here,” he shrugged. At the least, Charles should be able to do his own stealth-mode thing until the drugs wore off.

The man looked unconvinced. Maybe he’d picked up on Raze’s tiny hint of doubt; did he have heightened senses too? The man made an irritable sound and shoved his hands into his pockets, staring at the ground for a moment and seeming to consider before nodding. “Fine. We’ll have to work with that. You find him and head for the airfield, I’ll follow,” he said and then pinned Raze with a glare. “And _no_ fatalities.”

Raze stared at him, incredulous. “Are you _joking?_ ” he demanded.

The man grabbed Raze by the collar and yanked him closer to snarl right in his face. “We rack up a _single_ body here tonight and SHIELD is going to declare open season on mutants,” he hissed. “I _said_ I could handle this mission and I am not about to let _you_ fuck it up.”

“ _Okay!_ ” Raze pushed him back. “ _Fine_. I _get_ it. No starting a war with SHIELD.”

The man let him go, casting Raze another cool, warning glare before pulling the remote key for the door out of his pocket along with a smaller electronic key for the inhibitor collars. He opened the door and then tossed them both to Raze. “Let’s move. We need to be out of here before anybody learns to do their _job_ properly and locks this stupid rock down.”

“Okay, should--”

“Don’t worry about me. Just get your brother and get to the airfield. I’ll be following,” the man whispered as they stepped into the hall.

Raze nodded and started walking. He headed for the exercise yards; they were grouped together and every inmate in the facility had to be let out into one of them every day. He caught Charles’ scent amid the clamor and chased it from there to the west block. He passed three guards along the way; none of them paid any attention to him. You don’t sign up to work the night-shift because you’re _social_.

He didn’t see, hear or smell a trace of his mystery rescuer the whole time. Either he’d ditched Raze or he was _really damn good_. Raze kept following Charles’ scent as it grew stronger, until he found a door where it was the most prominent one. He glanced around and strained his senses to make sure he was the only ‘guard’ in the hall before pulling out the door key and fiddling with it. He keyed in the cell number and grinned as the door obediently slid back for him, pleased at how wonderfully user-friendly SHIELD made its toys.

“Charles,” he whispered, clicking the doors closed and adjusting his eyes to the darkness inside the cell. Charles was curled on the cot, awake and semi-alert at the sound of his name (despite the best efforts of the tranquilizers Raze could smell on him) and scrutinizing him carefully. Raze knelt down while Charles watched him warily and shifted just his eyes back to their natural appearance, hoping that the dim illumination of the security light was enough for Charles to make out colors.

Charles’ eyes widened slightly and he sat up, silent, waiting. Raze pulled out the collar-key and took a moment to figure out where it fit before hearing the minute hum of the electronics inside Charles’ collar go dead. _How did you get out?_ Charles asked the moment it switched off.

 _Some guy. Pretty sure he’s related to me,_ Raze answered, straightening back up and offering Charles a hand to his feet. _We need to meet him at the airfield. Can you make yourself invisible?_

 _Only to the guards in the halls. I can’t make the cameras look the other way,_ Charles answered, clinging to Raze’s hand and then grabbing his shoulder as his legs started shaking and he slumped. _We’ll need to be fast._

_Can you walk?_

_Not well,_ Charles grimaced.

Raze pulled Charles’ arm over his shoulders and hooked his own around his brother’s waist. _Come on. Let’s go. Make me look natural or something._

 _It’d be easier to just blot you out too,_ Charles replied.

_No, that guy said he’d be following me. I can’t disappear on him._

_Fine,_ Charles nodded. _I can make you seem unencumbered, but the cameras are still seeing us. We’ll have to make this quick._

Raze hurried to the end of the hall, half dragging Charles, and faltered, trying to remember where the airfield was. _Left,_ Charles called.

 _We need a pilot,_ Raze noted as he took off again.

 _I’m looking,_ Charles answered, shaking his head slightly. He kept directing Raze as they moved through the prison, the guards along the way continuing to pay no attention until one swept up from the right to pace him and Raze jumped slightly, tensing up before he realized that he’d been startled because he hadn’t _smelled_ the bastard.

“ _What_ , did you _change_ your _mind?_ ” the man snapped, glaring sideways at Raze as they walked.

“ _Course_ not. Say hello,” Raze grinned back. _This is him_.

The man gave a sudden flinch and an audible gasp through his nose, eyes widening as Charles must have let their rescuer see through his hypno-stealth. His eyes widened a little more as he looked at Charles and recognition played across his face. “... _‘Charles’_ , mm?” he rolled his eyes and looked back the way they were walking. “Raven really is a piece of work.”

“That’s a _polite_ way to put it,” Raze snickered.

“You can fly?” the man whispered, glancing momentarily back to Charles.

“I’ve found someone who can,” Charles replied.

Their rescuer narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips but said nothing. A few minutes later they were strolling out onto tarmac and Raze spotted a SHIELD cog standing motionless next to a plane. “That’d be our chauffer?” he asked.

“I can make him fly the plane but he’s not going to be much for conversation until my head clears a bit,” Charles replied.

“Can you keep him from looking at me?” their rescuer asked, glancing sideways at Charles. “It took some doing to keep my face off of the Cage’s security footage and I’d rather not have your pawn make it all for nothing.”

“He won’t even remember starting the engine,” Charles assured him.

Very abruptly, alarms started blaring and all kinds of lights started flashing and twirling. “I _suggest_ you have him start that engine _now!_ ” the man said, pulling the brim of his hat lower and grabbing Charles’ under the other arm, helping Raze drag him as they started to run for the plane.

The meat-puppet climbed into the plane and the engines started up as Raze heard shouting from behind them, followed by gunfire. He shifted one arm into a batwing and stretched it to protect Charles’ back as they ran. Their rescuer must have a healing factor since he had the claws and hadn’t minded getting smacked with titanium. Raze felt a few tranq-darts punch into the wing as they crossed the last few yards, any effectiveness they _might_ have had on him completely lost by getting caught up in the thin membrane.

When they reached the plane, the man grabbed Charles around the waist and bodily threw him inside, keeping his head down the whole time, making sure the brim of his hat obscured at least part of his face. Raze scrambled up and pulled Charles into a sitting position against the far wall as their rescuer climbed in and flipped the door controls. “ _Take off! Now!_ ” he shouted.

The zombie-pilot obeyed and the next minute they were leaving the tarmac behind and SHIELD command was screaming at them over the radio. Meat-puppet flicked a few switches on the control panel and the sound cut off. “We’re cloaked,” Charles sighed, closing his eyes and drawing his knees up against him.

“Make him turn off all internal monitoring devises and dump any recordings they’ve already made,” their rescuer demanded.

“... Who are you?” Charles asked quietly, opening his eyes again and giving the man a suspicious look.

He glared menacingly down at Charles. “ _Make him turn off all internal monitoring devises_ ,” he snarled again. “ _Now!_ ”

The pilot flicked a few more switches. “... Done,” Charles said.

The man glared at him another moment. “... Daken,” he said finally and then held up a bent arm, fist just in front of his face. “Need my ID?” he asked, extending his claws.

Charles nodded slowly. “... Interesting. The records I’ve read seemed to indicate that you should have died last year.”

“I _did_ ,” Daken replied, retracting his claws again and crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall of the plane.

“So... we knew that this guy existed?” Raze asked, glancing at Charles.

“Not _now_ ,” Charles replied. “As noted, he died last year.”

“Okay, and _who_ are you?” Raze asked.

“Wolverine’s eldest,” Charles answered, hugging his legs and leaning his chin on his knees as he closed his eyes again. “The more important question, though, is who _told_ you about us?”

“Nobody told me about _you_ ,” Daken said coolly, looking Charles over. “Laura sent me after _him_.”

“‘Laura’?”

“Laura Kinney,” Charles supplied again. “Talon.”

“Ah,” Raze frowned. “ _Why?_ Isn’t she pretty much the person who put us _in_ there?”

“I’m rather curious about that as well,” Charles said, cracking his eyes open again and glancing up at Daken.

“She wants the other Raze. The infant,” Daken said, eyes flicking to Raze again. “She thought you might know where Mystique would be keeping him.”

Raze tensed up and felt his hands start to shake minutely, claws itching to reflexively extend as he clenched his jaw for a few seconds. Oh yes, he remembered. “... And why should I tell _you?_ ” he asked in a quieter voice than he’d meant to.

Something sharp and keen came into Daken’s eyes and a slight smirk curled his lips. “Because then _Mystique_ won’t have you,” he said softly. “And isn’t _anyone_ better than her?”

_Well he read you like a book._

“ _Shut up_ ,” Raze snapped, casting a sideways glare at Charles before turning it back up toward Daken. “What, you think I’d rather be raised by _Daddy?_ _Please_. That guy’s _pathetic_ ,” he snorted, glancing away.

“He’s dead,” Daken replied flatly and Raze snapped his eyes back up to stare at him.

“Dead?”

“... That shouldn’t have happened for another six years,” Charles murmured, frowning. “The timeline’s already shifted... Was that our doing?”

“That’s an existential debate I’ve little interest in,” Daken said dismissively. “We’re rendezvousing with Laura in Madripoor. We assumed Mystique would be keeping the infant somewhere on the island.”

“... Yeah,” Raze nodded, staring at nothing in particular. “... Who’s going to raise baby-me then? You? Or are you sending me to _Summer's_ _camp?_ ”

“Laura’s been playing this whole thing ‘need to know’. Frankly it’s getting _annoying_ ,” Daken shrugged, wrinkling his nose.

Raze grinned just a little, Daken’s sardonic attitude was starting to grow on him. “Yeah, Talon’s such a hard-ass. I could never take--” he broke off as Charles suddenly jerked next to him, smacking his head back against the wall as his whole body seized up. “ _Charles?_ ”

“IDIOT!” Daken shouted as Charles kept seizing, eyes rolled back in his head, and started to foam at the mouth.

“ _Charles!_ ” Raze screamed, grabbing at his brother’s shoulders and feeling his blood run cold as he smelled a hint of Charles’ blood a moment before he saw the nose-bleed start up and make its way over his lip.

“W-what? _Where am I?_ ” the pilot stuttered, waking up and starting to panic.

Daken lunged toward the pilot and Raze at first thought he was going to snap the man’s neck, but instead his arm wrapped loosely around the pilot’s shoulders and he put his mouth right next to the man’s ear as he started murmuring softly. “Shhh- shhh- It’s okay... Calm down...” he said, petting the pilot’s arm gently. “Everything’s fine... Don’t worry...”

Raze could hear the pilot’s pulse and breath slowing, calming even as Raze’s own heart raced. Charles had stopped seizing and gone limp in Raze’s arms, unconscious and barely breathing. “ _What did you do?!_ ” Raze demanded.

“ _Shut up_ ,” Daken snapped, casting a momentary glare at Raze before turning his attention back to the pilot, caressing his shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re flying, remember? You do this all the time,” he crooned next to the pilot’s ear. “Everything’s okay... You trust me, don’t you?” he kissed the corner of the pilot’s jaw.

“... Yes... Of course I do...” the pilot breathed and started to turn toward Daken.

“Look where you’re flying,” Daken said quickly, voice getting slightly sharper for a moment before going soft again. “I’m depending on you, dear. My life is in your hands,” he cooed, squeezing the pilot’s arm.

Raze eased Charles to the ground, laying him on his side before making his way toward Daken and the pilot. “What the _hell_ did you do to _Charles?_ ” he demanded again in a growl.

“The _idiot_ tried to poke around in my head uninvited,” Daken hissed, pausing in his bizarre flirtations with the pilot to shoot Raze another glare. “It’s _mined_.”

“Well of _course_...” Raze trailed off, anger and fear melting as he struggled to remember why he’d been upset in the first place. “... mind...?” he mumbled, staring at Daken.

“Mine- _ed_ ,” Daken snapped. “Psychic mines. I’m wired with them. Your _idiot_ brother set one off.” He turned back to the pilot again and nuzzled his neck, murmuring. “Now I need you to set your coordinates... One, twenty, seventy by one-zero-three, ninety-three, thirteen. Can you do that for me? Hm?”

“Anything...” the pilot whispered.

“... How--” Raze started.

“ _Shh!_ ” Daken snapped his fingers and pointed at Raze without bothering to look at him.

Raze shut his mouth obediently and stared in silent awe at Daken. He was amazing. He was the most amazing, beautiful, wonderful person Raze had ever met. Daken wanted Raze to be quiet now, so he tried to breath as quietly as possible as he gazed in fascination at the man. He was Raze’s older brother, wasn’t he? Like Charles. Only so much more amazing-- was there something wrong with Charles? Oh. Yes. He was unconscious. But Daken didn’t seem to think that was important right now. And Daken was _amazing_.

Raze reached out a hesitant hand, his fingers caught around a bit of the fabric of Daken’s shirt and he clung, staring at his wonderful new big brother who he would do _anything_ for. Daken glanced at Raze again and smirked. “Well _you’re_ a light-weight, aren’t you?” _He was smiling at Raze!_ Raze’s heart fluttered in delight and he held his breath so as not to laugh giddily. Because Daken wanted him to be quiet now. And he would do anything for Daken.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gealach pointed out to me a canon-ish storyline I missed ( _No More Humans_ ) in which Raze has already made his presence known to Mystique. For the purposes of this fic, I'm ignoring the hell out of that comic. So it is noted. In this fic, I'm taking my direction from the snippet of Raze backstory we saw in All-New (this is also the story where they stated in canon that Raze _has_ already been born in the current timeline.)
> 
> Also, I promise you that this is _not_ going to turn into baby-fic where everything revolves around 'suddenly: baby'. No faster way to _kill_ a franchise. The pitfall of baby-fic even felled the mighty Warrior Princess ~~No, Xena! Don't do it! It's a trap!~~


	8. Step Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Why_ did you steal a plane?” Laura demanded, striding across the clearing. “And you _kidnapped_ a SHIELD agent?!”
> 
> “Because _somebody_ forgot to mention that there were _two_ idiots and I didn’t have enough _Fantastic_ -brand teleporters to go _around!_ ” Daken snapped.
> 
> Laura’s eyes widened in horror and fury. “You were _not_ supposed to bring _him!_ ” she shouted.

Finding a place to land a plane put them a few hundred yards off the designated rendezvous point, but Daken doubted that Laura would have any difficulty hearing a cloaked jet. The pilot (‘Conrad, William M.’ according to his dog tags) flawlessly avoided detection by any security sensors Madripoor might have to offer and set the plane down into a perfect landing on uneven terrain. And he never once thought to rebel against Daken’s influence. He’d been a good choice in chauffeurs, which meant that little Charles Junior had done exactly _one_ thing right today.

By the time the pilot switched off the engines, Daken was exhausted and his head was aching from the pheromone level he’d been maintaining to keep the pilot compliant. The fortunate side-effect was that it was also keeping Raze calm and obedient ( _unfortunately_ , Raze wouldn’t stop grinning at him with huge, adoring puppy-eyes and clinging). Charles Junior remained unconscious but breathing on the floor through the remainder of the flight, his total incapacitation making him the best company by default. Though Daken had no intention of forgetting that _all_ of this, right down to the fact that they were flying in the _first_ place rather than using the teleportation devices Richards had given Laura, was _entirely_ that idiot’s _fault_.

After powering down the plane, the pilot started to turn. “I--” Daken delivered a sharp slap to his carotid nerve and the pilot went limp, falling out of his seat.

“That’s so _cool_. You barely even _touched_ him. You’re so _cool_ , Daken,” Raze bubbled.

“Skill is always superior to force,” Daken sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment and then shaking his head.

“Are you okay?” Raze asked, curious rather than concerned, as he was currently overwhelmed with too much comfort and happiness to be worried.

“I’m tired. Pick him up. We need to get him restrained before he comes to,” Daken said, climbing to his feet and grimacing in irritation as his knees protested, cramped from crouching behind the pilot for a solid forty minutes. He made his way to the door and hopped out into low, ground-creeping vegetation in time to see Laura emerging from the woods, looking somewhere between annoyed and furious.

“ _Why_ did you steal a _plane?_ ” she demanded, striding across the clearing. She started a little and grimaced even more when she saw Raze exit the plane with the pilot draped over his shoulders. “You _kidnapped_ a SHIELD agent?!”

“Well somebody had to fly the plane, it’s not like...” Raze trailed off and Daken could hear his pulse and breath quickening.

“Because _somebody_ forgot to mention that there were _two_ idiots and I didn’t have enough _Fantastic_ -brand teleporters to go _around!_ ” Daken snapped, headache, hunger and weariness tearing his temper apart.

Laura’s eyes widened in horror and fury. “You were _not_ supposed to bring _him!_ ” she shouted.

At about the same time, Raze finally managed to collect his wits and started shouting too. “What did you _do_ to me?! What did you do to _Charles?!_ ” he shrieked, dropping the pilot on the ground and darting back into the plane.

“I _told_ you to get _Raze!_ We do not _need_ the telepath and he _cannot_ be _trusted!_ ” Laura came to a stop in front of Daken, glaring up at him.

“Well then _maybe_ your stupid briefing could have used a few more _details!_ ” Daken snarled back. “Thing One said he wasn’t leaving without Thing Two, so I _improvised!_ ” Daken winced, grinding the heel of his palm against his temple.

“I think- I think Charles might need a doctor...” Raze announced in a calm, dreamy voice, wearing a serine smile as he hopped out of the jet again, this time carrying his brother on his back. “He’s not waking up...”

Laura looked at him, raising a baffled eyebrow for a moment before grimacing. “You flooded the cabin with pheromones.”

“To keep the pilot happy,” Daken agreed.

“And you’re in pain?” Laura asked, frowning up at him. “I wasn’t aware it took a toll.”

“It normally doesn’t. Tucking a subtle suggestion into someone’s head is easy. Taking outright control of their emotions to the point of dictating someone’s actions- _particularly_ someone who’s been trained by SHIELD to resist interrogation and mind-control- takes quite a bit more effort,” Daken sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m tired and hungry and I have a headache. But since _Junior_ decided to be a _moron_ and knock himself cold while we were in the air, _I_ had to take over.”

“Charles? Charles? Wake up,” Raze was whining, his head having cleared again in the open air, and he was now crouched over his brother, whom he’d laid carefully on the ground. “ _Please_ wake up.”

“We need to get the pilot restrained and blindfolded,” Daken said, shaking his head. “He’ll come around soon and we can’t have him seeing you.”

“There will probably be something in the plane,” Laura sighed, crouching next to the pilot. “Did you hurt him?”

“Just tapped his carotid,” Daken said, walking back over and climbing into the plane’s cabin again. A quick search of the interior found a roll of duct tape and a survival box with a well stocked first-aid kit and several days’ worth of rations. During the search, Daken listened to the sound of Laura and Raze’s voices growing steadily in volume and he emerged to find them staring each other down with claws out, feet planted and muscles tensed, ready to lunge at one and other.

“ _Because he’s my brother!_ ” Raze was shouting at Laura.

Daken whistled sharply, catching their attention as he dropped back down to the ground and gave each of them a glare. “ _Knock_ it off!” he demanded, tossing the tape to Laura. Laura glowered for a moment before crouching back down to bind the pilot while Daken walked over and sat himself next to Charles Junior. He unwrapped a Powerbar and took a bite as he flipped the first-aid kit open and started digging through it.

“What are you doing?” Raze demanded, glaring at Daken, claws still drawn.

“I’m going to see what a shot of adrenaline does to him,” Daken replied and took another bite of his Powerbar.

“You don’t know what you’re _doing_ ,” Raze accused.

“I’m doing _something_ as opposed to _nothing_ ,” Daken said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe it’ll make him worse, maybe it’ll make him better. _Or_ we could just let him slip into a _coma_ , if you prefer. We certainly can’t take him to a _hospital_ \- in case you’ve forgotten, you both just escaped from a SHIELD super-max penitentiary.”

Raze looked torn, posture still threatening, claws still out as he wavered indecisively. Daken’s head was pounding and he didn’t feel like making the effort to calm Raze down, so instead he just jabbed an epipen into the unconscious telepath before Raze could stop him. “ _Hey!_ ” Raze shouted, throwing himself at Daken. He sank his claws into Daken’s chest and slammed him into the ground.

Daken cursed and pistoned a fist into Raze’s chest as he went down; he could feel the bones flex and bend like rubber under his punch and then snap back into place unaffected. He heard Laura shouting while he rolled and got Raze pinned under him. Daken had his arm poised to strike, claws extended, his other arm pressing down on Raze’s windpipe as yellow eyes glared up at him, and he froze. He was fighting a stupid, scared child. A stupid, scared child whom he shared at least half his blood with.

It was at about that moment that Charles Junior gave a loud, rattling gasp and started flailing. “ _Charles!_ ” Raze exclaimed, punching Daken square in the nose and throwing him off as he scrambled back to Charles Junior’s side.

“Little _shit!_ ” Daken spat, putting a hand to his face, feeling his broken nose knit itself back together. Laura’s hand landed on his shoulder, gripping it lightly, and he could hear her making a low growl, deep in her throat.

“No no no, just lay down, Charles,” Raze was saying, trying to calm his idiot brother, whose heart was pounding like he’d run a marathon. “You got knocked out pretty bad and--”

“ _No_. He _didn’t_ ,” Daken snapped. “You did _not_ ‘get knocked out’. You did something _stupid_ and knocked _yourself_ out.”

“... He tried to invade your mind,” Laura murmured, and there was a note of dark satisfaction in her voice.

Charles Junior turned his head slightly but didn’t try to sit up. “Wh-what?”

“Apparently you’re as _arrogant_ as both your parents combined but not anywhere _near_ as smart,” Daken noted. “That wasn’t even one of the _bad_ ones, you know. Try that again, and you might run into something _far_ worse.”

Charles Junior stared at him, confused, anxious. “Your mind... is booby trapped?”

“Very much so,” Daken agreed.

“You would not have been hurt if you were not attempting to _violate_ him,” Laura hissed.

“Well, live and learn, right?” Daken said, shrugging Laura off and climbing to his feet. “Now you know that you can’t get into my head.” He walked closer, watching Raze tense, glaring up at Daken while he crouched over Charles Junior. “But here’s the funny part,” he swooped down abruptly, shoving Raze off balance and grabbing Charles Junior by the collar, dragging him upwards. “ _I_ can still get under your _skin_ ,” he hissed, dumping a concentrated dose of fear pheromones.

“ _Get away from_ \--” Raze started to take a swipe and then recoiled and stumbled backward, eyes wide with terror. “W-w-what...?” he whimpered.

“S-stop- _Stop it!_ ” Charles Junior started to struggle and kick and punch and slap, desperate to get away. “STOP IT!” he shrieked.

“Now here’s the _thing_ , C.J.,” Daken grinned, baring a little bit of teeth, and held firm as Charles Junior kept fighting, unable to break away because he was nowhere near a physical match for Daken. “You might be quite the little puppet-master, you might be able to make a pre-frontal cortex dance to your tune, but the hypothalamus is _my_ string to pull.” He gave a short, amused hum. “And you’re still young enough to be leaning pretty heavily on your amygdale, aren’t you? Thought process driven by sentimental compulsion rather than well considered logic...”

Charles Junior stared at him, his struggling waning as Daken added depression into the mix. “... You’re... You...?” he whispered, his expression confused and startled.

“Oh, I’m _sorry_ , did you think I was _stupid?_ ” Daken sneered. “I know _exactly_ how my powers work and I know that the ‘upper’ brain functions, the ones that _you_ use and control, shut down _very_ quickly once fight/flight has been triggered. You see, gut-instinct and _visceral_ emotion trump logic and reasoning every time.” He narrowed his eyes, glaring down his nose at the telepath. “Now, would you like me to _stop?_ ”

“ _Y-yes_ ,” Charles Junior gasped.

“... I should make you _beg_.”

“Daken,” Laura called, a very _slight_ note of reproach in her voice, as she stood a few yards away, avoiding the aura of discomfort he was generating.

“You _would_ , you know,” Daken assured him before letting up on the pheromones and dropping Charles Junior, whose knees buckled and he crumpled awkwardly to the ground. He sat hunched and staring down at the sea of jasmine under him, eyes wide and pulse and breath agitated. After a minute or so, Raze managed to find the will power to crawl to his side and glare up at Daken.

“You son of a _bitch_ ,” Raze hissed.

“No, that would be _you_ two,” Daken replied flippantly, turning away, partly to demonstrate his disdain, partly to search through the plane’s emergency rations again. “ _My_ mother was a saint.”

“So then Mystique was _his_ mother too,” Laura murmured, half question, half statement, and crossed her arms, glaring down at the two boys. “That explains quite a few things.”

“Like how he has his father’s powers and his mother’s oh so _charming_ personality?” Daken found an MRE which claimed to be beef stroganoff. Doubtful. “Oh, and word to the unwise, _C.J.?_ If it seems to me that Laura is acting in a manner that doesn’t feel _right_ , I will punish you. And you won’t even fight back. You won’t _want_ to. Not because it doesn’t _hurt_ , mind you.”

Raze gave a loud, wordless snarl. Charles Junior simply said, “... Noted.”

“Where is Mystique keeping you?” Laura demanded, walking closer to loom over them. “The infants?”

There was a pause and then Raze answered quietly. “She ditched Charles in a hospital. Some English flatscans have him.”

Charles Junior shot him a cool look at the pejorative. “Francesca and Edgar Griest. They’re good parents,” he said quietly.

“Then why are _you_ a nightmare?” Laura glared down at him. “... I will _know_ if you are lying.”

“And why should I say anything to _you?_ ” Charles Junior asked, glaring right back.

The mix for forthrightness was two parts trust, one part desperation, one part need, three parts calm. Daken slid the emotions under Charles Junior’s radar as he slid the little magnesium heater into the MRE box with the theoretical-stroganoff.

“... I killed her,” he looked away. “When my powers manifested, the backlash killed her...” he narrowed his eyes, glaring down at the jasmine. “If I’d been raised by my real parents, she wouldn’t have died. She wouldn’t have ever crossed paths with me. If Cyclops hadn’t _murdered_ my father--”

“ _Mystique_ is the one who abandoned you,” Laura cut him off. “And the one who failed to inform anyone at the hospital of the ninety-seven percent chance that you would be a mutant. _Regardless_ of who or what was responsible for Charles Xavier’s death, _Francesca Griest’s_ death was the fault of _Mystique_.”

Charles Junior was silent.

“How old were you when your powers manifested?” Laura asked.

“... Fourteen.”

“Then the Griests will need to be warned. But if they are good parents, then I see no reason to remove the child from their care,” Laura decided and then turned back to Raze. “Where are _you?_ ”

“Baby-prison,” Raze spat, glaring back. “She calls it a _‘nursery’_. It’s in the sub-basement of her shiny, glass tower. The elevator doesn’t even have a button, it takes a hand-print scan. Once you get to the sub-basement, there’s another hand-print, a retinal scan and a voice-print verification to open the door.”

“All of which _you_ could get past without breaking a sweat,” Daken guessed, stirring a flimsy, plastic fork through the questionable stroganoff.

“That’s what she gets for cheaping out. Stupid bitch didn’t put in a DNA scanner,” Raze snorted and shrugged.

“Chalk it up to arrogance. She never thought anyone could do it to _her_ ,” Daken said and then took a bite of the MRE and wrinkled his nose. Well, it was _technically_ food, anyway.

“So you’re going to send Raze in, disguised as our mother, to retrieve his younger self and bring him back to you?” Charles Junior asked, glancing back up at Laura.

“I will be going _with_ him,” she said firmly, crossing her arms.

“And you think nobody’s going to question that?” Charles Junior raised an eyebrow at her. “Mystique giving a tour of her secret sub-basement to a known--”

“ _Hsst!_ ” Daken hissed sharply, glaring at the telepath.

“ _What?_ ” Raze cast him an irritated look.

“Oh he’s probably just worried about the pilot overhearing our conversation. Doesn’t want him reporting Talon’s affiliations back to SHIELD,” Charles Junior said casually, shrugging.

“Oh, huh, yeah,” Raze nodded, tilting his head and apparently taking note of the pilot’s pulse. “When did he wake up?”

“Ten minutes ago,” Daken glared at them both. “So unless _C.J._ is planning to erase his brain, let’s be a little more careful with our language.”

“I won’t need to,” Charles Junior replied, looking back at Daken. “I temporarily disconnected his ability to form long-term memories. Everything he’s hearing is just going in one ear and out the other.”

“... Who are you?” the pilot asked, finally giving up on playing possum as he lay on his side, his wrists and ankles bound and a short strip of tape covering his eyes.

“Even if we _tell_ you, you’re not going to remember ten minutes from now,” Charles Junior pointed out.

“You _will_ fix him,” Laura growled, glaring down at him.

“Why exactly aren’t we just killing him?” Charles Junior asked curiously.

“Because we are _not_ starting a war with _SHIELD_. The pilot must be returned to them _unharmed_ ,” Laura answered.

Charles Junior nodded slowly. “And how exactly did you plan to return him to SHIELD without revealing _who_ took him and starting that war you’re so worried about?” he asked.

“We rent out a cheap, dirty little hotel room, leave him tied up on the bed and activate his distress beacon just before we leave the island,” Daken explained calmly, setting the empty plastic container from the stroganoff down in the jasmine and digging a box of cookies out of the rations. “Getting an undercover SHIELD team in and out of Madripoor unnoticed will take enough time and planning and _we_ will be long gone before they recover Agent Conrad.”

Charles Junior nodded again. “Fair enough,” he agreed and then looked back up at Laura. “But the point remains. If Mystique walks into the building escorting a known X-Man, that is going to turn enough heads that _somebody_ will stop you to ask questions.”

“I am _not_ sending him in alone,” Laura said firmly.

“I wasn’t proposing that,” Charles Junior replied. “But _I_ could see to it nobody even notices you’re there.”

Daken glanced at the pilot, who seemed content to play possum again, listening diligently to their conversation in the hopes of being able to relate it to his superiors later. Charles Junior hadn’t shown any signs of deception when he’d claimed to have taken care of that issue, but then, he was someone who might very well be preternaturally _good_ at lying. The pertinent question was probably whether _he_ wanted to start a war with SHIELD.

Laura glared icily at the telepath. “I do _not_ trust you,” she hissed.

“And I don’t trust _you_ ,” Charles Junior retorted and then glanced away. “... But I know what our mother will put Raze through if something isn’t done...” He was quiet for a moment before turning back to meet Laura’s glare with one of his own. “I want to know what you plan to do with him. I will _not_ let you give him to _Summers_.”

“I do _not_ need your _permission!_ ” Laura snarled, brandishing her claws for just a moment before she was staggering backwards, expression suddenly dazed as though she’d been hit hard.

Daken dropped the cookies and lunged forward. Raze took a swipe at him, splitting Daken’s face open before yelping and fleeing as another fear-dump hit him. Charles Junior scrambled and scratched at the ground as Daken grabbed him and held him down. “I _warned_ you,” Daken hissed.

“ _Stop stop stop!_ ” Charles Junior begged, thrashing and tearing at the jasmine. “ _What are you going to do with him?! Stop! Please!_ _What are you going to do with him?!_ ”

“D-Daken...” Laura mumbled, rubbing a hand against her forehead and wavering slightly but keeping her feet under her. “Let him go.”

Daken growled but eased back, letting Charles Junior go but keeping him within arms’ length and settling into a ready crouch as the wind dissipated the lingering pheromones. Charles Junior drew up his knees and shook violently in the fading terror. Raze scrambled forward again and grabbed at him, pulling his brother into something akin to an awkward, fear-motivated hug and glaring at Daken.

Laura glared down at them, crossing her arms again and pressing her lips into a thin, tight line for a moment before speaking in a soft growl. “I am not taking him to Cyclops,” she said.

“... And we’re not going into this blind,” Charles Junior answered, glaring back. “If you want our help, _either_ of us, you tell us your plan. Now.”

Laura ground her teeth for a few moments and then gave a sharp nod. “Fine.”

000

“Hey Mystique. When’d you get back?” Fred Dukes, ‘Blob’, asked, giving Raze a startled look and trying to pretend he was alert and diligently minding his security post.

“Should I have called ahead?” Raze cast him an imperious sneer.

“Hah. Yeah. You and Sabertooth both gone so much, I guess you gotta check in and make sure we’re not all slacking off, right?” Dukes gave a nervous laugh.

“Well I _wasn’t_ worried, but now, hmm,” Raze tilted his head and gave Dukes a pointed look before turning back toward the door as Dukes scrambled to pull it open for ‘her’. “Get back to work--” _Dukes_ “--Mister Dukes.”

Talon’s anxiety grew more pronounced as they entered the building. She was nervous, ready to fight her way out, glancing around sharply at every errant sound. Daken, by contrast, looked utterly calm, and the roiling storm that surrounded and masked his mind made it impossible to tell if it was a veneer or genuine. Raze was itching to break everything in sight and scream obscenities. _Calm down_ , Charles whispered into his mind.

_I hate this place. I hate these people. I hate_ _**her** _ _._

_I know. Calm down,_ Charles soothed as they headed for the executive elevator.

“Good morning, Ms. Darkholme. Is there anything I can get for you?” a perky receptionist with purple-pink skin and a sharply ridged forehead asked sweetly.

“Maybe later--” _Penny_. “--Penny. I have some business to take care of. If you’ll excuse me,” Raze breezed past her.

“Of course, Ms. Darkholme. Just let me know!” Penny called cheerfully after them.

“Somebody wants a promotiooon,” Raze sang, rolling his eyes.

“Can you blame her for wanting to get _off_ the floor where _Blob_ is part of the scenery?” Daken sneered.

“You know this is a lot more difficult when you _talk_ ,” Charles noted.

“ _Quiet_ ,” Talon hissed, casting a brief glare at Daken.

They reached the executive elevator and Raze pressed his hand to the scanner pad. A moment later, the screen announced “ _Identity confirmed RAVEN_ ” and the doors opened. They entered the car and Charles sighed as the doors finally shut, relaxing. “That gets us past the organic security and it should be a few hours before anybody notices that the cameras are on a loop,” he said.

“Aw, too bad,” Raze pouted, having been presenting his middle finger to the security camera hidden in the control panel.

“We don’t want our mother to know you’re missing until we’re ready to confront her,” Charles reminded him.

Talon nodded. “I want the infant safely away before she realizes.”

“‘ _The infant’_ , God, you talk like a _machine_ ,” Raze snorted.

“And _you_ talk like a low-brow idiot,” Daken offered.

Raze glared, a number of conflicting emotions battling within him. “Better than a smug, snobby _ass_ -hole.”

“‘Pedantic’,” Daken supplied. “Today’s vocabulary lesson is ‘pedantic’. That’s what you were going for there.”

Charles chuckled. Raze frowned at him. “ _What?_ ” he demanded.

“He’s teaching you better words to insult him with,” Charles explained.

Raze wrinkled his nose, baffled, and glanced back at Daken. “ _Why?_ ”

“Because your limited repertoire depresses me,” Daken sniffed. “I am, after all, a snob.”

“You’re _weird_ ,” Raze snorted, rolling his eyes. He didn’t dislike Daken. He had been caught off guard and disturbed by the presentation of Daken’s pheromone abilities, but he was fascinated with the man and continually searching for similarities between them. Because Raven Darkholme was really the only thing Charles and he had ever had in common, but these two were far more like him than unlike.

Charles pinched the side of this tongue between his teeth, holding back a frown. He could see Daken watching him but refused to make eye-contact. The man obviously had a strong ability to read people with uncanny accuracy. Acute and meticulously trained observational skills, sharpened by his enhanced senses. Combined with his pheromone abilities, he could have passed himself off as a telepath or empath to a layman observer. But then, he probably biased more toward keeping his abilities unknown, increasing their subtlety and therefore potency.

The elevator doors opened into a small antechamber Charles had seen in Raze’s memories but never visited in person. This was the first time Raze had been there since the day he left it, their mother’s body entombed within, and the scanners had prevented Charles from accessing ‘the nursery’ without Raze to open the way. Though, he probably could have hacked in and bypassed the obsolete programming if he’d really made the effort. Raze walked stiffly toward the door across from the elevator, mind seething.

“... Can you calm him?” Charles asked softly, glancing up at Daken, who raised an eyebrow in response. “If _I_ do it, it’s going to hamper his ability to function. And he’s about to snap,” Charles said.

Daken gave a nod and sauntered over to Raze as Charles and Talon held back. Raze jumped slightly when Daken’s hand landed on his back and Charles frowned. “How does he keep startling Raze?” he murmured, glancing to Talon.

She fixed him with the cagey, suspicious glare she’d been giving him since he woke. “... He can mask his scent when he chooses. It can be very disconcerting, when one is used to relying heavily on that sense,” she replied. “I’m not sure why he’s doing it now. Sabertooth will know we have been here either way,” she shook her head slightly, frowning. “... I think he’s deliberately disquieting Raze.”

Charles nodded slowly, looking back to Daken, who was standing far too close to Raze. It was unnecessary; he hadn’t needed to be that close when he was tormenting them with fear pheromones earlier, but he seemed to be bolstering the chemical suggestions he was exuding with physical contact, an arm around Raze’s shoulders and mouth close to his ear. Disturbingly intimate proximity for a brother he’d met only hours earlier.

“Daken has personal boundaries issues,” Talon noted and Charles bit his tongue and tried to sweep the grimace he was wearing off his face.

The whispered conversation was too quiet for Charles to hear (he wondered if Talon’s superior ears could pick it up) but he could easily sift it from Raze’s surface thoughts. _So... you hate this place and you don’t want to go in there. / No_ _ **shit**_ _, Sherlock. / Are you scared? /_ _ **No**_ _, I just_ _ **hate**_ _it. / Why? / ... I’ve stepped through that door_ _ **once**_ _in my life. The day I_ _ **left**_ _. / ... How old were you when you saw the sky for the first time, Raze? / ... Eleven... / How old is_ _ **he**_ _? / I don’t know, like, three months or something. / I know you don’t want to go in there, but if you open that door,_ _ **he**_ _will see the sky_ _ **today**_ _. / ... Okay..._

Daken petted a hand over Raze’s hair (Where the _hell_ did he get the _right?_ ) and settled it on his shoulder as Raze pressed his own hand to the screen and looked into the retinal scanner. “ _Submit voice print_ ,” the computer instructed and Raze answered, “Raven Darkholme.”

The security door slid open to reveal pastel wall paper with yellow duckies on the other side. “... You know you’re going to be mad at yourself if you wait in the hall,” Daken murmured, tugging at Raze’s shoulder. Raze let out a soft growl but allowed himself to be pulled into the room as Charles and Talon followed after them.

“Good morning, Raven,” a synthesized voice greeted as one of those old Fantastic-brand nanny-bots hovered toward them. No, it wasn’t old in this time period, it was probably a stolen prototype. Fantastinannies didn’t hit the market for a few years yet. ‘Made to assist parents, not replace them’. Raven wasn’t the only parent who would ignore the second half of that. “It has been two hours, twenty-seven minutes since--”

“Power down,” Raze snapped, and the nanny-bot cut itself off, hovered across the room to its docking station and went dark. Raze growled again and glared venomously at it.

He continued to maintain their mother’s appearance even after the nanny was dealt with, despite Charles having hacked the security feed to show yesterday’s footage. It might be a little paranoid, but then, Charles was wearing a hood and dark glasses to hide himself too. It was prudent, in case their mother somehow noticed the looping and managed to get the cameras back online.

“Let’s get this _over_ with,” Raze snarled, striding across the room to a white, wooden crib with a mobile hanging above it.

“Wait--” Talon started toward him.

“Raze, _wait--_ ” Charles snapped as Raze caught the baby under the arms and made to pick him up.

“I swear, if you _shit_ on me--” Raze started to warn before the baby let out a piercing scream and Raze jumped back as if burned, fortunately not having lifted the baby far enough to really _drop_ him more than an inch or two.

“You are _hurting him!_ ” Talon snarled. “That is _not_ how you pick up an _infant!_ ”

“How would _you_ even _know?!_ ” Raze shouted back defensively.

“Raze, his healing factor hasn’t kicked in yet! You can’t manhandle him like that!” Charles exclaimed.

“You’ve _injured_ his _neck!_ ” Talon accused.

“Who _cares?!_ This is _bullshit!_ Why should _he_ get better than me _anyway?!_ ”

“He _is_ you, _idiot!_ ”

“Raze, _calm down!_ ”

“ _I’m perfectly calm!_ ”

“ _SHUT UP!_ ”

Superior volume won out and they all jumped and turned to Daken, who had the baby in the crook of his arm now. The distraught wails had turned into quickly fading whimpers as the baby succumbed to Daken’s calming pheromones and twisted a tiny, indigo hand into the fabric of his shirt. “ _Shut up_ ,” Daken repeated in a low, dangerous growl. “ _Get_ the baby’s _things_ and let’s get _out_ of here. This place _stinks_ like a hospital and the _last_ thing I want to do right now is stand around listening to a bunch of _idiot teenagers_ scream at each other.”

There was momentary silence except for the soft music playing from the mobile and then Talon went into motion, rifling through dressers and cabinets and filling the large backpack she’d brought with them. Daken turned his eyes to Charles. “Can you tell how badly he’s hurt?” he asked.

“... He isn’t,” Charles said, shaking his head. “There’s no injury. It probably just hurt for a few seconds.”

“ _See?_ It’s _fine_ ,” Raze snapped. “I didn’t _hurt_ it.”

“ _Please_ don’t do that again, Raze,” Charles sighed.

“ _He_ does _not_ get to hold the baby,” Talon said firmly, shoving bottles and tins of formula into the bag.

“I don’t _want_ to hold it,” Raze retorted, glaring at her.

“Shut _up_ ,” Daken demanded again. “ _You two_ , stop _talking_ to each other.”

“I was _not_ talking to him,” Talon grumbled.

“ _Laura_ ,” Daken gave her a warning glare as she stuffed the remaining space in the bag full of disposable diapers and zipped it shut.

“Fine. I’m done,” she announced, slinging the backpack over her shoulders. “Give him to me.”

000

The Changeling’s computer announced an incoming call. From Raven’s office. Which was _supposed_ to be _locked_. Raven frowned, chewing her lip and glaring at the message on the screen for a moment before accepting the call. Her oak desk and the large windows of her penthouse office appeared on the screen, with _Daken_ sitting in her chair, smug as anything, and _damned X-23_ perched on the edge of her desk, glaring daggers at Raven.

“Where the _hell_ have you two been?” Raven demanded, glancing down at one of the smaller screens as she hammered away at the keyboard, trying to find out _how_ they had infiltrated her tower without raising any alarms.

“ _We had some errands to run,_ ” Daken replied with a smirk, holding up both his hands.

Well... That was useful. Raven crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “I see. And why _is_ it that I can see you on the call-screen, yet my tower’s security feeds show my office devoid of life except for the fichus?”

“ _ **Please**_ _, Raven, what do you_ _ **take**_ _me for? You really think I can’t loop a security camera? Do you_ _ **know**_ _how long I’ve been in this business?_ ” Daken scoffed, leaning back in her chair.

Mystique pursed her lips. “Not as long as me. I suppose this is some attempt to threaten me?”

“ _... Threaten you?_ ” Daken gave her a puzzled look. “ _Yes. Of course. Give us all your swag or the fichus gets it._ _ **Really**_ _, Raven, I’m in your_ _ **office**_ _. That’s not exactly prime threat-making material, is it._ ”

“Then _what_ is this?” Raven demanded.

“ _We finished our errands and we’re ready to be picked up, of course,_ ” Daken shrugged. “ _I believe_ _ **you**_ _were the one who made some rather pointed threats if we were to desert._ ”

It was highly suspect, but not outside the realm of possibility. Raven smirked, turning to look at X-23. “Oh, did I rattle some cages? You’re really rather _protective_ of your little Angel, _aren’t_ you, X?”

“ _You’re a filthy cunt,_ ” X-23 replied, glaring.

Raven hid her surprise. That wasn’t the kind of language she expected to hear from X-23’s lips, not because she was dainty but because she didn’t seem to find much value in swearing. Raven really _had_ angered the girl. “Well, there’s nothing to worry about, dear. You’re being so cooperative and _delightful_ , I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” she said, smirk unfaltering.

“ _How far out are you?_ ” Daken drawled, leaning on an elbow. “ _I’m peckish, I think I might get some lunch if you’re going to be very long._ ”

Raven pulled up a flight-rout on the screen, it offered an estimated arrival of fifty-three minutes. “Ninety minutes,” Raven said. “I’m sure my secretary would be happy to order something for you.”

“ _Hm, you don’t think she’ll wonder how I got up here?_ ” Daken grinned.

“I’ve no doubt you can charm her into not giving a damn,” Raven replied.

Daken chuckled. “ _See you in significantly less than ninety minutes, Raven._ ”

Raven smirked as she ended the call. Daken was far too much like her, and too clever. It was dangerous, how easily he seemed to understand her plans and spot her feints. But it was also exciting, gratifying in a conspiratorial way. If Victor’s usefulness had run its course, Daken could make a more than suitable replacement. Something would have to be done about X-23, but first thing’s first- pick up her wayward kiddies and teach them their place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When Daken was talking about parts of the brain there- the hypothalamus is the brain-bit that processes pheromones and the amygdale is where emotions happen. Brains in people under 20-ish process and react to the stuff around them more in the amygdale because the prefrontal cortex (logic and reasoning center) is the last thing to finish growing; that being why teenagers are much more emotionally volatile and reactive (contrary to popular belief, it is not hormones). Now, bear in mind here, I am not a brain expert, I just have Google and the willingness to spend ten minutes looking up brain-bits, so I might be wrong on the connection I made here. My reasoning was that pheromones trigger instinctive reactions in a brain, not logical ones, so I figured that it's the amygdale that's being lit up when this happens, but I could have gotten that wrong. If so, we'll just call this another instance of 'comic book science'.


	9. Step Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spines don’t do that. Even if you’re a contortionist with a healing factor, there are certain ways that spines don’t bend. “... What the he- _hurgh!_ ”
> 
> Daken snapped Victor’s neck and dragged him up by a handful of hair. “Shhh, don’t spoil the punch-line. Timing is everything, you know,” Daken whispered behind his ear, no doubt grinning like a damned psycho.

“This isn’t a _field trip_. Get back in the plane,” Raven snapped as Victor and Shogun started following her out onto the landing pad on the roof of her building.

“Looks like a field trip to me, and last I remember, this was _my_ damned island,” Victor replied with a shrug.

“Well then you’re clearly going senile,” Raven sneered. “Don’t _touch_ anything.”

“Yeah yeah,” Victor rolled his eyes and cast a nod at Shogun, who had hesitated for a moment, his foot hovering above the landing pad just as he’d been about to step off the Changeling’s ramp. Then he did one of his shifts, the whole of his body language changed, and followed after with the arrogance of someone who believes they own everything they lay eyes upon. Something was clearly wrong with the kid, and Victor doubted it was a simple as schizophrenia.

Deathstrike hadn’t made an appearance, still sporting the attitude of not caring about whatever the rest of the ‘team’ got up to, and Junk had probably been told to stay put- the only member of their crew who was all that good at taking orders. Victor and Shogun trailed along in Raven’s wake, probably looking an awful lot like a pair of hired goons, as she made her way into the building. She marched to her office with an irritable air and the secretary outside jumped to her feet when she spotted them, looking back and forth between Raven and the office door.

“O-oh! Ms. Darkholme! I- I didn’t see- when did you--?” she started with a confused expression.

“ _Who_ is in my office, Candice?” Raven demanded in a stern voice.

“I- b-but--” the secretary started and then stopped and shifted, in a way not unlike Shogun’s little swings. “He said he was here to meet you for a business lunch. An associate of yours. Oh he’s so _charming_ , Ms. Darkholme. D’you know if he’s-- whether he’s seeing any--”

Raven snorted loudly and waved the secretary off, rolling her eyes. “That will _do_ , Candice,” she said, turning away from the secretary.

Victor frowned, studying the girl who slid back into her chair and started busying herself again. She didn’t smell agitated at all. Her heart didn’t flutter when she talked about being charmed by Daken. Her body didn’t give any physical reactions to match her words. Odd.

“Ms. Darkholme!” Victor’s thoughts were interrupted by a squawk as another girl, the very definition of mousey and awkward, ran toward them from the elevator, so uncoordinated she was tripping over her own shoes as she went and they didn’t even have real heels on them. “Ms. Darkholme! I- I- Um- Anita Thrope- I- There’s no reason you’d know me. I’m nobody,” she mumbled, flushing in embarrassment and looking down at her feet. “I- I mean- I work- I’m in security- I mean- a technician. Obviously I’m not a _guard_ , I mean--”

“Spit it _out_ , girl!” Raven snapped, glaring at the flustered little nerd.

“Y-yes! Sorry! It’s just- My supervisor didn’t believe me- he said I was imagining things- but I- I’m positive there’s been a security breach, Ms. Darkholme,” the girl said, finally looking up at Raven through her coke-bottle glasses. “Um- um- The security feeds, for the whole building, they’re showing _yesterday’s_ footage. I tried to backtrack it and find where it’s coming from- or- or just _stop_ it- but the hacker is _brilliant_ \- maybe a technopath, it’s like they’re _years_ ahead of our security tech.”

Raven raised an eyebrow, considering the girl, who seemed to shrink in terror under her gaze. “What was your name again?” she asked.

“A-Anita Thrope,” the girl barely managed to whisper.

“Your supervisor is fired. _You_ will be the new head of your department,” Raven said.

The girl paled and then flushed and then paled again, starting to pant and wheeze in panic. She pulled an inhaler from her pocket and took a hit off it and then whispered, “Oh God. Oh God.”

“Take the rest of the day off, dear,” Raven patted her shoulder, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly as she was clearly trying to hide disgust, but not very hard.

“Y-yes Ms. Darkholme. Thank you. Thank you,” she nodded, backing up, almost bowing, before spinning and taking off at a run.

“You just sent that poor mouse to an early grave,” Victor noted, watching the girl disappear. “No way in hell she can _manage_.”

“And yet she’s the only person in the whole damned building who noticed there was a break in,” Raven said, turning back toward her office. “Daken may be good, but I expect a bit _more_ from my staff.”

“Yeah, but since when is Daken a hacker? The mouse seemed pretty damned impressed with whatever he did,” Victor pointed out.

“No doubt he’s been stealing tech from the Fantastic Four again,” Raven dismissed, moving across the reception area and flinging her office doors wide as Victor and Shogun followed.

Inside the office, Daken was settled comfortably in Mystique’s chair and Laura was perched cross-legged on the desk as they ate out of takeout boxes. They both looked up, Daken smirked and Laura glared. “Hello, Raven. I do believe that was less than ninety minutes,” Daken greeted.

“And I believe that that is _my_ chair, you smug bastard,” Raven snapped, striding over to the desk and setting her hands on her hips. “Now I have to fire my secretary. I hope you had _fun_. _Get_ in the plane, we’re wasting _time_.”

Daken grinned up at her for a moment, setting his takeout box aside and folding his hands. “Actually, Laura and I have been discussing it, and we don’t think we’ll be joining you on the remainder of your wild goose chase, Raven,” he said.

“Really.” Raven gave him a sour glare.

“I thought it would be more polite to tell you in person. Consider it a professional courtesy,” Daken said.

“I suppose I’m not surprised that _you_ don’t have much interest in threats, but I rather thought X-23 actually _cared_ about the welfare of her friends and loved ones,” Raven sniffed, looking up at Laura.

Laura growled, narrowing her eyes; Daken glanced up at her and gave a quiet, “Shhh,” before turning back to Raven. “Actually, this would be counter-threat time. That’s the professional courtesy part. It seemed like good sportsmanship to let you know how things are going to be from now on, rather than just springing it on you without warning,” he gave her another wide smirk.

“ _Really_ ,” Raven repeated, looking somewhere between unimpressed and amused.

“Deal is: you are going to give up your _claim_ or whatever on me and if you ever come anywhere near me or mine, I will _know_ and I will take you apart piece by piece,” Laura said coolly, dropping her takeout box into the garbage can next to the desk.

“Oh _please_.” Raven rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Why do you suppose I broke in _here_ Raven?” Daken asked. “Of all the annoying places I could have called you from, why _here?_ ” He laced his fingers and rested his chin on them, grinning at her. “I _have_ something of yours, Raven. _Guess_ what it is.”

Raven glared at him. “You’ll never get out of this building, Daken. You’ve over-reached,” she hissed.

“Mm, I don’t think she wants to guess,” Daken tilted his head, casting his eyes up toward Laura. “Shall we skip twenty questions and just blow the punch line?”

“Suits me,” Laura grinned viciously, an expression that was as out of character as it was disconcerting.

“I don’t _care_ what you’ve sto--” Raven started before Laura’s foot slammed her across the chest and sent her half falling, half staggering backwards. Laura then launched herself off the desk, diving down and planting her hands on the floor as her knees went up to wrap around Raven’s neck and give a savage twist, flinging her through the air and into the carpet. If Raven had had normal bones, her neck would have snapped, no question.

“ _Raven!_ ” Victor shouted, moving to grab Laura, then arching back and roaring as Daken’s claws punched through him from behind.

“Ah ah ah. This is a _personal_ kind of thing, we should probably just stay out of the way, don’t you think?” Daken sang, cutting upward and shredding Victor’s lungs. Victor tried to slash at him, but Daken was keeping himself just in the area Victor couldn’t quite reach. There hardly seemed any point in bothering, anyway. Why fight back? He should just let Daken kill him. He didn’t deserve any better. He deserved worse. He should have bit it years ago. He should have never been born. Maybe the world would be a better place now if he hadn’t-- _shit_ , Daken was screwing with his head.

Raven hadn’t managed to get her feet back under her when Laura was striking again, damn well _cartwheeling_ into a devastating downward kick and then swooping upward with a wicked gut-punch without breaking momentum. Her movements were so fast and ferocious, Raven couldn’t get her balance between one hit and the next.

Shogun was just standing there uselessly, looking agitated. His posture shifted back and forth, flipping through his modes. Why wasn’t he helping Raven? Did it matter? It was pointless. They deserved this. They were the worst-- _damn_ Daken’s stupid pheromones. Shogun raised a hand to his head as he shook it. “Someone- someone is toying with my _mind_ ,” he hissed.

“‘s D-Daken,” Victor wheezed, his tattered lungs barely managing to push it out.

“No- it- it’s not th--” Shogun started, shifting back into his upstart pup voice, and then the visible part of his face went slack and he swayed for half a moment before collapsing.

“W-what?” Victor whispered and then gurgled in pain as Daken’s claws pulled down and out of him, re-shredding his lungs on the way, before he was thrown onto his back and Daken descended on him, planting a knee in Victor’s gut and slashing him across the throat so deep his claws scraped bone.

“Why are you _struggling_ , Creed?” Daken sneered down at him. “You _must_ realize you deserve this. If you had any modicum of decency left, you’d roll over and die right now.”

He was right. He was dead on. It wasn’t just the pheromones, it was the fact that Daken was _right_. He deserved to burn in hell. He deserved everything that was coming to him. And since Daken was one of those he’d screwed over, and since he was Logan’s progeny, he had as much right to claim Victor’s head as anyone. He shouldn’t be fighting death. He deserved every bit of it. But if he just gave up... “Raven...” Victor whispered, rolling his head to the side to catch sight of her being thrown and slammed into again by Laura.

“ _Aw_ , murderers in love. That’s so _sweet_ ,” Daken crooned and then dug the claws of his right hand into Victor’s chest. “Where _is_ that big, soft heart of yours, I wonder?”

Laura wasn’t using her claws, she wasn’t tearing Raven apart, she was just beating her. It _looked_ ferocious, but she wasn’t out for the kill, she was restraining herself. Good girl. She was the best of them, never any question of that. But still, every hit she landed on Raven was a pang in Victor’s heart. As Laura flipped to support herself on her hands again and delivered a flourishing series of kicks to Raven’s chest, neck and chin, something caught Victor’s eye. The way her spine swiveled. Spines don’t do that. Even if you’re a contortionist with a healing factor, there are certain ways that spines don’t bend.

“... What the he- _hurgh!_ ”

Daken snapped Victor’s neck and dragged him up by a handful of hair. “Shhh, don’t spoil the punch-line. Timing is everything, you know,” Daken whispered behind his ear, no doubt grinning like a damned psycho.

And Victor thought he _had_ figured out the punch-line, at least a tiny piece of it, because there was only one person he’d ever seen fight and _move_ like Laura was right now. Raven turned one arm into a sickle and tried to slash at Laura but she half cartwheel/half flipped out of the way, her spine going a bit too acute in the process but not fazing her in the least. Raven finally managed to get behind her and slammed the girl into the floor, grabbing her by the hair and stabbing her sickle-arm through Laura’s back.

“Cretinous little _slut!_ ” Raven snarled, panting. “I can promise you I _won’t_ be forgetting this.”

“Oh _no_ , now you’ve got me,” Laura whimpered mockingly, flapping her arms uselessly against the carpet for a few seconds before her shoulder-joints pulled a complete 180 and her right fist slammed into Raven’s nose as the left hand grabbed her by the throat and yanked sideways, throwing her off. Laura’s body followed the motion into a roll and she planted her knees on either side of Raven’s supine form and slammed her hands down (now turned back in the right direction) on either side of Raven’s startled face. “Getting the picture, _bitch?_ ”

“W-what? Who--” Raven whispered, staring up, confusion and disbelief in her wide eyes.

“ _Really?_ You’re _that_ slow?” Laura laughed in her face, punched Raven across the jaw again and then slammed the palm back down and shouted, “ _SURPRISE, BITCH!_ ” Her face and body, everything, rippled and churned like waves breaking over the beach, exactly the way Raven’s did when she changed, and half a second later, Raven’s attacker was a young man who looked a lot like Logan and _exactly_ like Raven.

Daken started laughing and the boy joined in. “I _told_ you proper comedic timing would make the pay-off that much sweeter,” Daken crowed.

“And you were right,” the boy cast him a toothy grin. “I bow down to your superior sadism, _big brother_.”

“N- _no!_ This isn’t-- You _can’t_ be--!” Raven stuttered, staring up at the boy in horror.

“ _God!_ How are you not _getting_ it?!” the boy exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

“To be fair,” Daken reasoned as he slipped a claw between Victor’s vertebrae, severing his spinal cord again before dropping him on the floor and straightening up. “She didn’t expect you to be potty-trained yet, much less pursuing personal vendettas.” He strolled over to stand just behind the boy and smirk down at Raven, laying a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “I sympathize, Raven, I really do. This X-Men time-travel nonsense, it’s just awful. A continuity nightmare. It’s just impossible to keep track of anything.”

“... Raze?” Raven whispered, ignoring Daken and continuing to stare at the boy.

“Fiiiinally catching up, huh?” the boy scoffed and punched her in the face again, then this time as he pulled his fist back, a set of claws, three across like Logan’s but only about half length, slid out of his hand and he aimed them at the other shapeshifter’s eyes. “How about a kiss goodnight, _Mommy_.”

“ _A-aa!_ No,” Daken snapped, grabbing his wrist and hooking his other arm around the boy’s chest, pulling him back. “This is a _warning_ , Raze, _remember?_ ”

The boy, Raze, let out a loud, vicious snarl and strained against Daken, though, given the way he’d so easily unhinged and rearranged his joints before, he almost certainly could have broken the hold if he’d tried. Victor smelled and felt the drifting scent of calm and realized that it was Daken’s pheromones doing all the heavy lifting in holding Raze back, the physical contact, more like an embrace than restraint, was just reinforcing the effect. “... I _changed_ my _mind_ ,” Raze growled between his barred teeth.

“Why do you want to put her down easy?” Daken murmured in a voice that was somehow equal parts soothing and biting. “You’ve just confirmed for her that she ranks among the _worst_ mothers of all time and that _no one_ will ever love her. That _must_ sting. Wouldn’t it be so much better to let her live with the pain for a while? Like a knife in her heart that will never come out?”

Raze visibly calmed as Daken spoke, his breathing and heartbeat slowing down while he glared down at Raven. “... I want to see her blood,” he hissed, narrowing his eyes, and then spat on her face.

“That’s enough, Raze,” a new voice admonished and suddenly there was another scent in the room that Victor somehow hadn’t noticed before. “You already killed her in our time. That should’ve satisfied you.”

Victor still couldn’t sit up or turn his head, still couldn’t feel anything below his neck, but a few seconds later, the speaker walked forward, closer to where Raven lay with Raze and Daken crouched over her, and Victor managed to catch sight of him. And _this_ kid was even more startling than Raze. “... H’l’ shit...” Victor breathed, staring and not quite believing his eyes, because this kid couldn’t be anything but a very young Charles Xavier.

“I can’t be _satisfied_ if she’s still _walking around!_ ” Raze snapped.

Kid Xavier shot him a hard glare. “ _No_ ,” he said firmly. “You already had your turn, now leave it.”

“Come on,” Daken said gently, standing and pulling Raze up off of Raven. The kid wasn’t as short as Logan but he was a long ways from tall, Daken probably had a good thirty pounds on him, but there’s no way he would have been able to pull Raze back like that if he were fighting like before. He didn’t even give the pretense of resisting this time, just growled. “Shhh. Look how miserable Mommy is. All her silly little hopes and dreams just shriveled up and died. Doesn’t that give you the nicest warm, fuzzy feeling?” Daken cooed at him and Raze growled again.

Kid Xavier knelt down next to Raven and they stared silently at each other. Seconds past, turning into minutes, and then abruptly Raven threw back her head, screamed like she was being vivisected and writhed on the floor. Raze started laughing delightedly.

“ _RAVEN!_ ” Victor shouted and one arm flung out, reaching uselessly in her direction. Part of his spinal cord had knit itself back together, but not enough.

It only lasted for a few seconds before Raven was panting and quietly sobbing, hands over her face. “And yet she was better than _you_ in every way that mattered,” Kid Xavier hissed at her and then his head turned and his gaze locked on Victor. This was definitely _not_ a young Charles Xavier. Even if he hadn’t just _tortured_ Raven, there was a clear and sharp _meanness_ in those eyes. “You. Who did that to you?” he asked quietly, eyes narrowing.

“What, were you daydreaming when I stabbed his neck?” Daken drawled sardonically, raising an eyebrow at the kid.

“Not that. His mind is covered in psychic scar-tissue. Somebody’s taken the core of his psyche and turned it inside out. He’s been all but lobotomized,” Kid Xavier explained, studying Victor and frowning. “There shouldn’t be a psychic alive right now who can do something on that level without killing him. Not until the next Phoenix fledges.”

Daken’s eyes turned to Victor as well, his expression the calculated blank that meant he was doing some heavy duty thinking. As long as Kid Xavier’s attention was on him, he wasn’t hurting Raven, and she was in a state like Victor had never seen her before, knees curled up, breath shaking. And judging by the boy’s looks, the answer to Kid Xavier’s question would probably be enough to hold his attention for a while. So Victor pressed his responsive arm against the floor, trying to push himself up to sitting, failed, and gave up. “... The Red Skull,” he said gruffly, watching the kid’s puzzled frown deepen. “He stole Charles’ Xavier’s body right out of his own funeral march, took out a chunk of his brain and grafted it into hi--”

The pain was blinding. Like nothing Victor had ever felt. It was like a noise, a buzz or a whistle or a siren wail, louder than anything he’d ever heard. It was like hot knives being jammed straight into his brain. It was like being crushed under ten tons of rock. It was like burning alive. Even though Victor felt like he was being utterly deafened, he could still hear voices over it.

“CALM DOWN!” Daken. Shouting.

“He-he _pillaged_ my father’s _corpse!_ ” Kid Xavier. Hysterical.

“CALM DOWN! _Look at what you’re doing!_ ” Daken. Still shouting.

“He _butchered_ my father’s _brain?!_ ” The kid. Voice getting louder.

“ _You’re hurting Raze!_ ” Daken.

The pain cut off just as abruptly as it had come. Victor lay still, dazed, gasping for air, tears running down his face. He could hear whimpering. And Daken was talking again, voice quieter now.

“Look at me. _Look_ at me,” Daken commanded.

“That monster b- _butchered_ \--”

“Yes I _heard_. _Calm_. _Down_ ,” Daken ordered again.

“You- you don’t _get_ \--”

“Do you _think_ this is in some way _helpful?_ ” Daken demanded. “ _Look_ at _Raze_.”

“G-get _off_ of me.”

“No. _Calm_. _Down_.”

“I’m _calm_ ,” Kid Xavier hissed.

“No. You’re not,” Daken said in a firm but gentle voice. “Breath. In... out... in... out...” he coached the kid like a lamaze instructor.

When Victor finally managed to piece his senses back together enough to remember he was still on the floor, his spine seemed to have mostly stitched itself back together. He managed to push himself up to sitting, but his right side was still numb and his left leg tingled, so he stopped there for now. Daken was standing toe to toe with Kid Xavier, one hand clamped around the kid’s shoulder, the other on the side of his head. The kid had his hands positioned to shove Daken away but he was paused. Victor could smell Daken’s scent, saccharine with pheromones, gripping the kid much harder than his hands.

Shogun was also fumbling around now; apparently the psychic a-bomb going off had woken him up. When he spoke, it was with his younger voice. “That isn’t- Is he-? He _can’t_ be--” he babbled.

“He _ain’t_ Charles Xavier,” Victor rumbled, because it was easy enough to guess what had caught Shogun’s attention.

“I suppose he’d be Charles Darkholme-Xaiver,” Daken glanced briefly at Victor, the very corner of his lips tugging slightly with the ghost of a smirk. “I like to call him C.J. Because he doesn’t like it.”

And there the pieces all clicked together into the full picture. Of course. Raven had been pregnant twice in the last two years, long enough each time for the pay-off. She never showed, of course, and likely nobody had noticed, save those who could smell it on her. Victor hadn’t said anything; at the time, he’d found it hilarious that she thought she could hide it from him. But the old jokes weren’t all that funny to him these days. That, combined with Daken’s babbling about time-travel, explained who these two were and, more or less, their problem with Raven. But they were definitely a lot _meaner_ than Kurt or Anna-Marie had ever been.

“Get off of me,” Kid Xavier said, voice much calmer now but cold as ice. Daken let him go and stepped back.

“Can we _go_ now?” Raze whined, sitting on the floor with his knees hugged against him. “I want to _go_.”

“And who the hell is _he?_ ” Shogun whispered.

“ _Later_ ,” Victor shot back.

“I think we’re done here,” Daken agreed, walking over and holding out a hand to Raze. Raze ignored it and clamored to his feet under his own power.

“Where is my baby?” Raven hissed, finally pushing herself halfway up, bracing against her arms and glaring at Daken. “ _That’s_ why you came _here_ , isn’t it? _Where_ have you taken my _baby?_ ”

“He’s _safe_ ,” Daken replied, casting her a withering sneer. “If you were paying any attention, we _know_ how it all turns out if _you’re_ allowed to care for him- and I use the term ‘care’ very loosely.”

“Go to _hell_ you smug _bastard!_ ” Raven snarled. “Where’s my _baby?!_ ”

“You heard it from his own lips, Raven. If you raise him, that baby will _despise_ you to a homicidal degree,” Daken crossed his arms and glared down at her. “If you want to have any tiny hope of that baby _not_ growing up to revile you, you will let him be. He’s better off where he is.”

“ _Where is he?!_ ” Raven shouted.

Daken glowered for a moment and then squatted down in front of her. “... Tell me exactly how _much_ I should care about him, Raven,” he said quietly. “What level of responsibility I should be feeling here? Is he my _brother?_ That’s the assumption Laura was operating on.”

Raven just glared icily back, lips pressed thin.

“What are you _talking_ about? Of _course_ I am!” Raze protested, holding up his fists and extending his claws. “What, do you think I’m _faking_ it?”

“He doesn’t think you’re faking it, Raze,” Kid Xavier said, arms crossed and looking down at the floor, his naked brow furrowed.

“Well then quit _screwing_ around and let’s get _out_ of here! I’m _sick_ of this shit-hole!” Raze demanded, throwing his hands in the air.

Daken rolled his eyes and looked pained as he rose back to his feet. “‘Shit-hole’? _Really_ , Raze? How is that _even_ descriptive?”

“ _Fuck_ you! I’m sick of _your_ shit too!” Raze snarled back.

Daken let out a long-suffering sigh and grabbed Raze by the arm, pulling him in tow as he started striding toward the door, then caught Kid Xavier with the other hand in the same manner. Just after the doors opened, the trio vanished.

“One of them’s a teleporter?” Shogun asked in his young voice.

“Nah, it’s the telepath. He’s hiding them from our senses,” Victor corrected and then glanced back at Raven, who had stood up and turned her back to them, hands braced flat against her desk. “... Raven?”

“ _Get_. _Out_ ,” Raven growled very quietly.

“Raven, I--”

“ _GET OUT!_ ”

000

Ororo was grading papers when a little chime sounded from the security panel on the wall. “ _Laura Kinney has just entered campus via the main gate,_ ” the security grid’s voice announced brightly. Ororo drew a sharp breath and pushed back her chair, not bothering to hit save as she launched herself to her feet and hurried out the door. She nearly ran down the halls and took the main stairs two at a time, reaching the front door just as it was being pulled open by the stoic teenager who had been ever at the forefront of Ororo’s mind the last two days.

“Laura!” Ororo felt a surge or relief at the sight of the girl’s face. “How--” she started and then lost her train of thought utterly as she took in the swaddled bundle Laura had cradled in her arms. “... What...?”

“I must speak to Nightcrawler,” Laura said calmly.

“... Kurt?” Ororo asked, baffled, watching Laura adjust the bundle in her arms and tug at the swaddling. “Laura, whose child is...” she trailed off as Laura pulled the thin blanket away from the baby’s face, revealing deep indigo skin and thin vermilion down crowning its little head. The baby yawned and cracked open its amber eyes as a name from Ororo’s recent memory floated to the surface. “... Raze...” she whispered.

“Yes,” Laura agreed.

“... You said you weren’t going anywhere dangerous,” Ororo said, a touch of anger hardening her voice.

“I said that our next stop after _here_ was not dangerous. It was not. We went to the Baxter Building,” Laura explained quietly, looking evenly back at Ororo. “I did not attempt to go after Raze until Daken was in fit condition to aid me.”

Ororo swallowed back a surge of fury at Laura’s evasiveness. It was just _exactly_ what her father would have said. “The Baxter Building,” she said, focusing on the parts of the explanation that irritated her slightly less. “You’re saying that Reed has cured Daken?” Of course he did. The man held so stringently to the Hippocratic oath he’d nursed _Victor von Doom_ back to health more than once.

“Yes,” Laura nodded and looked down at the baby in her arms. “... I need to speak to Nightcrawler,” she said again, softly.

Ororo sighed and nodded, picking up Laura’s thought process. “Come on,” she said, putting a hand on Laura’s shoulder and starting toward the faculty dorms.

Laura flipped the blanket back over Raze’s face as she walked with Ororo, hugging him securely against her and giving off a protective air. As they traversed the hallways, here and there they passed upperclassmen not bound to the ten o’clock curfew. A few perked up with recognition when they saw Laura and looked as though they wanted to call out, but Ororo cast them stern looks and they stayed quiet, watching curiously as the two passed through.

When they reached Kurt’s dorm, Ororo knocked and before her knuckles had drawn away she heard three pops and saw two bamfs appear, clinging to the molding above the door. One immediately disappeared and she heard a muffled pop inside the room and a small voice announce “Storm!” The other bamf hopped down to Ororo’s shoulder, then scrambled around to the other shoulder and stared down at Laura curiously as Ororo glanced around looking for the third one she was sure she’d heard. She found it dangling from the light fixture as the door opened and Kurt grinned at her.

“Ororo- ah, Laura’s back! That’s--” he started.

“Storm!”

“Yes, thank you, Luke,” Kurt shot over his shoulder at the bamf.

“Storm!”

“I _see_ her, Luke. _Thank_ you,” he repeated. “Luke likes to be helpful,” Kurt said with a sheepish grin as he turned back. Ororo had no earthly idea how Kurt could tell the bamfs apart, she wasn’t even quite sure how many there were now. “Laura, it’s good--” he cut off and his eyebrows went up as he noticed what she was carrying. “Liebling, is that a _baby?_ ” he asked.

Laura nodded and stepped closer to him. A bamf appeared on each of Kurt’s shoulders as Laura tugged the blanket back again to reveal the child’s distinctive complexion and Kurt’s eyes widened. “This is Raze Darkholme,” Laura said softly. “I believe that you would be able to make the best legal argument for custodianship,” she said, looking up at him. “And I believe you’re the one Logan would have most approved of.”

Kurt was mute and motionless a few more moments before the bamf on his right shoulder hissed, glaring down at the infant and Kurt shot a warning look and a quick reprimand at it, “Matthew, _no_.” Then he turned back toward Laura and hesitantly reaching out. Laura carefully deposited Raze in his arms and Kurt stared silently down at him as he shifted the baby to cradle him against his chest with one arm, freeing up a hand to gently touch his cheek. Raze caught his finger and stared back up, frowning. “... Guten tag, Bruder,” Kurt whispered.

Laura shrugged out of the large backpack she was carrying and set it on the floor. “I brought some of the things Mystique had for him. Clothes, formula, diapers, toys...” Laura said calmly as three bamfs ran over and started grabbing at the contents of the bag as Laura unzipped it.

“... Laura, where is Daken?” Ororo asked quietly, watching Laura still slightly in the middle of snatching a can of formula away from one of them.

“... He is dealing with Mystique,” she answered.

Ororo stared at her, a chill running down her spine. “Laura, she is going to _kill_ him.”

“I do not think she will,” Laura replied, her gaze still set on the bamf trying to wrestle the formula from her, not meeting Ororo’s eyes.

“Laura--”

“How did you find him?” Kurt cut in. “How did you know where he would be?”

“... The older Raze. The one from the future. He showed us, and took us past the biometric locks,” Laura said quietly, a guilty sheen to her downcast face. “... He is with Daken now.”

The chill of dread turned abruptly to nausea and Ororo had to fight hard against the urge to vomit, gritting her teeth. Not now, damn it. The bamf still on her shoulder patted her forehead and made a worried whine. Ororo balled her hands into fists and pushed back the feeling. “Laura, how did you find _him?_ ” she asked, her stomach churning.

Laura finally looked up at her and Ororo had the distinct impression of being studied. “... I knew where he was,” she answered. “I believed that he would know where his younger self was. He helped us willingly and required very little convincing. It seems he despises Mystique.”

“How--”

“ _Mein Gott_.” Ororo glanced back at Kurt, who was wearing a startled expression and pinching Raze’s chin between his fingers as the baby squirmed and made an irritated growling sound. “Laura, how _old_ is this baby?” he asked.

“Thirteen weeks,” Laura replied, looking at him with a concerned frown.

“What’s wrong?” Ororo asked.

“He has _teeth_ ,” Kurt said, staring into his mouth as Raze slapped at his hand.

Ororo raised an eyebrow. “That’s unusual. How many?”

“ _All_ of them.”

“What?” Ororo stepped closer, leaning in to catch a glimpse into the baby’s mouth as he struggled and gave an angry whine, trying to push Kurt’s hand away. There was indeed an entire set of tiny, fully formed teeth inside his little mouth. “That... is _definitely_ unusual,” she noted.

Kurt started laughing softly, finally letting Raze’s face go, but now that he was riled, the baby continued to squirm and fuss, though he made very few vocalizations. “You are very precocious, Bruder,” Kurt chuckled, stroking his fingers through the fluff on the angry baby’s head. The bamf on his left shoulder stretched down to poke curiously at the baby and nearly got bit as Raze snapped at it.

Ororo sighed and rubbed a hand over the back of her neck and then rested it against her chin, trying to process this new crisis. “... Kurt, what do you think of Laura’s idea?” she asked after a moment.

“I think she is right,” Kurt said softly, bouncing Raze in his arms in an attempt to ease his fury, while the bamf that had been snapped at disappeared and then reappeared crouching low on Kurt’s shoulder, or maybe it was a different one. “Of his closest kin, Laura is a minor, and Daken...” Kurt winced slightly, “does he even have citizenship?” He bit his lip, glancing back down at Raze. “Even if Daken would be a _legally_ viable candidate...”

“ _No_ ,” Ororo and Laura said in unison.

Kurt nodded. “Eh, yes, I think that would not be a very good idea,” he murmured, trying to tickle Raze and receiving an irritated slap rather than a giggle. Kurt smiled softly, cosseting the baby’s head again. “... I would be very happy to take care of my little brother... And Shogo will like having another baby to play with, I think.”

Ororo let out a slow, relieved sigh. “You’ll have all the help you need, of course,” she said, resting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and then glanced over and frowned as she watched four bamfs pull the bottom drawer out of the dresser and upend it on the floor.

“They say it takes a village, yes?” Kurt said, offering her a smile before looking back down at the baby in his arms. “... Logan’s family has always had such unlucky childhoods. Perhaps we will turn that around now.”

“That is my hope,” Laura said quietly.

“I’ll call Jennifer Walters in the morning,” Ororo said. “I doubt she’ll have any trouble convincing a judge to declare Mystique an unfit mother in absentia.” Kurt nodded, expression going a bit wistful. “I can have the other teachers cover your classes tomorrow, and I’ll try to find you larger quarters,” Ororo offered, squeezing Kurt’s shoulder.

Kurt smiled again. “I suppose there are other things he will need, besides what fits in a backpack,” he said. “We can make a day of it- crib-shopping and getting to know each other. Does this sound fun, Bruder?”

“It sounds like a perfect idea,” Ororo said.

“Thank you, Laura,” Kurt said, voice and smile warm as he turned back to her. “I hope you are able to stay a bit longer this time.”

“It will take Daken at least a few hours to catch up,” Laura said, gaze drifting as she seemed to think on it.

“I would like to thank him as well,” Kurt said.

Laura tilted her head to the side slightly and considered that. “He will find that awkward, I think,” she noted.

“Well, he will just have to feel awkward then,” he said jovially. There was a loud pop as four bamfs appeared on the floor next to him, proudly holding up the dresser drawer, which they had lined with bath towels. “Did you make a baby-bed? Thank you!” Kurt grinned at them and crouched down. “We can get a bigger one tomorrow when the stores are open, but now Raze will have a place to sleep tonight. Good work.” He settled onto his knees so that all the bamfs could crowd around him to get a close look at the baby. There was an excited, but surprisingly quiet, clamor of ‘baby’ ‘Raze’ and ‘little brother’ as the bamfs crawled over each other and Kurt’s lap, and climbed up his back to peer and poke at Raze.

“Will you be alright for tonight, Kurt?” Ororo asked.

“Perhaps I am too optimistic, but I think so,” Kurt said, looking back up with a lopsided grin, which then swept away into a thoughtful look and his eyes turned to Laura. “Do you know when he was last fed?” he asked.

Laura shook her head. “I’m not sure.”

Kurt nodded slowly. “I guess... I should see if he will take a bottle now and then look on Google for how often a thirteen week old should be fed...?”

“That... is probably exactly what I would do,” Ororo agreed, letting out a breath that was somewhere between a sigh and a yawn. All of this was a good thing, a quite wonderful thing, but even contemplating it was _exhausting_. “I’m going to get Laura settled into one of the spare rooms. Call me if you need anything at all.”

“I will,” Kurt said, rising to his feet and putting a hand on her arm. “Thank you. Sleep well, Strumchen.”

“Good night, Kurt.” Ororo leaned over and kissed his cheek before stepping back out into the hall and turning her attention to Laura. She put an arm around the girl’s shoulders as she started guiding her back down the hall in the direction of the student dorms. She distantly registered the sound of Kurt’s door clicking shut as she tried to piece together a question, when Laura interrupted her thought process with one of her own. “You smell like mouthwash and discomfort... Do you have morning sickness?” she asked, looking up at Ororo, her expression uncharacteristically open.

Ororo stared at her and she stopped in her tracks, breath coming up short and mouth going dry. “... How do you...?” she whispered.

Laura looked down. “I apologize. That was rude.”

“... Laura, how did you know?”

“... A woman’s scent changes when she is pregnant,” Laura explained softly. “I do not mean to be rude. It’s just... I thought that... it will be very close to Raze in age... It will be good for them... to have each other...”

“Laura... I’m so sorry,” Ororo whispered, shame nauseating her as much as the morning sickness. “... She’s not your sister.”

Laura’s eyebrows drew together, her gaze still fixed on the floor. “... Oh,” she said softly.

“I’m so sorry,” Ororo breathed again, eyes burning. “I... it was two weeks after... I was so lonely and _angry_ and... T’challa called me...”

Laura’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled slightly, a sliver of teeth showing between them. “Your ex-husband?” she asked, a sharp edge to her voice.

“Laura, I’m sor--”

“He _knew_ you were mourning!” Laura protested. “That- that is _manipulative_ and _disrespectful!_ ” she snarled, suddenly livid. “This is not the first time he has _insulted_ and _abused_ you for your regard of him! If Logan were alive, he would _break_ that arrogant rich-boy’s _face!_ ” she declared.

Ororo found herself caught in a burst of extremely inappropriate laughter and she caught Laura, pulling her into a hug. “Yes... That’s exactly what Logan would do,” she agreed, petting a hand over Laura’s hair. “But please, Laura, stay away from him... I want nothing to do with him right now.”

Laura nodded, her arms wrapping around Ororo’s waist a little awkwardly, tense, protective. “... She will grow up with Raze and Shogo though... They will play together...” she whispered.

“Yes,” Ororo said, leaning her cheek against Laura’s head. “And Kymera is going to have abilities very similar to yours. Perhaps she and Raze may find a rapport in that.”

Laura was quiet for a moment before asking softly, “Why do you know that? Why do you already know it’s a girl?”

“I’ve seen her. I’ve met her,” Ororo said wistfully. “She came... just after the other Raze. She stayed behind when the others from her time left. She’s beautiful and strong. She’s a lot like you.”

“Where is she?” Laura asked, looking up.

“I have no idea,” Ororo shook her head, her smile feeling a little painful. “She’s a _lot_ like you.”

Laura pursed her lips, looking away. “... Some of the things Daken and I have to do... the X-Men should not be held accountable for them,” she said softly.

“Laura, please tell me what you’re planning. Or at least tell me _why_ you have to do it,” Ororo pleaded.

“... Paradise has been taking our blood,” she said softly. “And I believe there are still branches of the Facility in operation... And there are others, other subsidiaries and offshoots of Weapons Plus that have Logan’s blood and are _using_ it to- to make weapons like me, or Phantomex, or those Predator-X creatures.” She took a step back, breaking away from Ororo and starting to pace uncomfortably. “It- it was Daken’s idea... He said that targeting the people who _do_ these things is useless, there will always be more mad scientists. But we can track down the blood samples, the genetic material, and destroy it... There will still be evil men, but they won’t be able to use _us_ anymore.”

“Laura, we can _help_ you,” Ororo protested. “The things these people are doing, they are _absolutely_ illegal and crimes against mutants as individuals and a whole. This is what the X-Men _do_.”

Laura shook her head. “Some of these places will be associated with SHIELD. SHIELD will have contracts with them, maybe completely unrelated to their experiments on mutant DNA, but attacking them will inevitably lead to conflict with SHIELD.”

“We will collect evidence. We will reveal what these monsters are doing, and if SHIELD refuses to hold them accountable for crimes against mutantity, we will take it _public_ and show the world what SHIELD turns a blind eye to,” Ororo said firmly.

Laura looked down again. “... I will think about it,” she said softly. “I... I’m not yet sure what our next step will be.”

“Please remember, Laura,” Ororo begged, “ _please_ remember that you don’t ever have to do these things alone. You are _not_ alone, Laura.”

“... Thank you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes notes notes, let's see...
> 
> Oh yeah. Back after chapter six, Gealach mentioned the graphic novel _No More Humans_ , and at that point I hadn't read it (it's not in MDCU) and the concern was that Mystique canonically already knows that future-Raze is in the present. Anyway, I went and read it (and it's pretty cool and has fantastic art) and I am fairly certain that is meant to be an out-of-continuity 'what if' story, because the events of it aren't even vaguely referenced in any of the in-continuity stories, and I'm pretty sure that li'l Jean's part in that is something that people would not be able to shut up about if it was part of the main timeline. Also because the relationship between Raze and Mystique in _No More Humans_ is fairly cordial, whereas in _All-New X-Men_ , Charles says, reading Raze's mind when they first meet, that Raze killed Mystique, and Raze states "And if you're reading my mind, you know exactly why. And if you have a problem with that, you have a problem with me." Essentially, 'she had it coming,' so, some definite animosity there that would probably stand in the way of anything resembling civility.
> 
> Made a vague reference to Charles not having eyebrows; yeah, I know he's drawn with them in the comics, but a bald teenager? I'm writing him with something like Alopecia, presumably a byproduct of his mutation. Charles Senior definitely had hair as a child, but it seems to be implied that Charles Junior never did; nothing new for second-generation mutants to exhibit physical peculiarities from birth though, so that fits into the pre-established canon just fine.
> 
> Names for the bamfs isn't canon, but it _is_ canon that Nightcrawler seems to have an empathic link with his bamfs, I extrapolate that he can actually tell them apart, and I feel like he's not the type to call them all 'hey you'. Originally I decided he would name them all after the gospels because for the first few issues of _Nightcrawler_ there are consistently seven of them pictured going on adventures with him, but then later on there's places where I think I counted nine, so, figure some apostle names are thrown in there too. This series also shows that the bamfs have taken to living in Kurt's room, laying all about like cats. He is a cat-lady and they are his swarm.
> 
> And there was a vignette tucked in here that came off as completely pointless side-tracking. I promise that's going to have a pay-off, but it will be a few chapters on.
> 
> Oh! Yeah! And the thing with T'chala refers to a scene from New Avengers... 24 I think? Right before 'Eight Months Later'.


	10. The Question of Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was a _mean_ son of a bitch, no doubt, but not as cold as Logan had taken him for. Daken was a pitbull, but even a pitbull wanted a pat on the head and a ‘good boy’ more than just about anything in the world. Logan had missed that. Victor had used it. And Laura was the one to finally take that stray in out of the rain. If there was hope for the kid, it was because of her.

“Is he good to go?” Daken asked, depositing the SHIELD agent on a cheap hotel bed that smelled of not quite enough stingingly sharp cleansers to cover up the multitude of unspeakable acts committed upon it.

“He’ll wake up in an hour with no memory of anything that’s happened since he reported to work last night,” Charles Junior replied in the same quietly smoldering monotone he’d been using since they left his mother’s glass tower.

“Excellent. Then we-” Daken fiddled with the beacon on the agent’s vest and powered it on, “-have a plane to catch.” As they walked back down the hall and through the lobby, Daken glanced sideways at the young man, who looked like a storm silently brewing. “And the registrar won’t remember my face?” he asked.

“No,” Charles Junior agreed.

They went out onto the street and Daken watched with fascination the way people’s eyes slid past them like water off a duck. It wasn’t invisibility, nobody bumped into them or tried to walk through them, but apparently nobody could _look_ at them either. “I suppose you do this quite a lot,” Daken noted.

“Yes.”

“... Creed is not the sharpest tool in the shed. There are a limited number of things he is very good at, but he is not a particularly bright man,” Daken said carefully. “I don’t think interrogating him would have yielded much actionable data.”

“And where will I find _actionable data?_ ” Charles Junior demanded coldly, glaring up at Daken.

“On the Red Skull? I would try the Avengers,” Daken shrugged. “Your sister happens to be one.”

“My--?” Charles Junior faltered and stopped walking, frowning in confusion for a second before the expression was broken with dawning clarity.

“Anna-Marie Darkholme?” Daken said.

“Yes. Yes, I got that,” Charles Junior nodded, looking irritated, and started to walk again.

“It’s a place to start,” Daken shrugged. “You know, assuming she doesn’t just try to arrest you on sight or something.”

Charles Junior sighed through his teeth and crossed his arms, glaring blankly ahead as he walked. Daken listened to his agitated pulse and the sound of him grinding his teeth just a little bit as they made their way out of the suburb and into the woods. They started to draw near the clearing where the jet was waiting and as the last opportunity to talk outside of Raze’s hearing fell upon them, Daken composed his words carefully before taking a breath and putting them to voice. “It rather seems as though Raze may have a particular aversion to confinement, and having gained some inkling of how he was raised, it isn’t difficult to see why,” he said slowly.

“Do you have a point, or are you just making noise?” Charles Junior asked.

“I was curious how he ended up in a SHIELD super-max prison,” Daken replied with a casual shrug. “Clearly there was some error or miscalculation along the way, but I wonder, was it _his_ miscalculated error that ended the both of you up in there, or was he just following _you?_ ” Daken glanced sideways at Charles Junior who was glaring daggers back at him. “Because it looks, based on the level of attachment he’s been exhibiting toward you today, as though he would gladly follow you into hell. And so I have to ask-” Daken pinned him with a glare, “-do you intend to lead him there?”

Charles Junior glared back silently for several seconds. “... You think he’s yours. _Why_ do you think he’s yours?” he asked in a cold, quiet voice.

“ _Might_ be, not _is_ ,” Daken corrected sharply. He shouldn’t be ruffled at such an obvious redirect, but the subject matter was unsettling enough to knock him off balance. “And why do you _think_. Because I can do _math_.”

“You were dead.”

“I died twelve and a half months ago,” Daken said in a calm, even voice, though the tranquility didn’t reach below the surface. “Part of the series of events that lead up to my death involved spending a week and a half in your mother’s company while she and Creed measured me for a coffin. And your mother likes to mark her territory.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Oh please. How old are you supposed to be?” Daken sneered. He bit the inside of his lip for a few seconds as the plane started to come into sight through the trees. “I plan to seek confirmation one way or the other when we get back to New York. I think it would be best to not bother Raze with it until then,” he said.

“And what do you plan to do if you _are_ his father?” Charles Junior demanded, glaring up at him.

Daken glared back for a few seconds. “... He’s better off with Wagner.”

“The _baby_ is,” Charles Junior said in a whisper as they got closer to the plane. “... You and your _sister_ just completely upended the history that Raze and I remember. There’s nowhere for us to go back to. Because we’ve helped you destroy our home.”

Daken paused to contemplate that, considering the young man and trying to decide what exactly Charles Junior wanted from him. “I suppose we’ll just have to adlib it then, since we’ve lost the script,” he said and turned back to the plane as the door along the side slid back and Raze hopped out.

“Are we _done?_ Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” he demanded. “I don’t want to be on _her_ island anymore and we’ve already eaten, like, half the snacks!”

“And we’d already be gone if we weren’t wasting time kissing up to SHIELD,” Charles Junior noted, climbing into the plane and settling himself in the pilot’s chair. “You know as far as threats to the welfare of mutants go, I would definitely place SHIELD in the top five.”

“And the ‘mutant nation’ is a little too disorganized and fractious at the moment to mount any kind of reasonable defense against SHIELD, so it would be a _remarkably_ bad time to start a _war_ with them,” Daken retorted, climbing into the copilot seat to watch Charles Junior start up the plane.

“... Noted,” Charles Junior conceded.

“Maybe Mystique’ll fire a few shots at them when they come to get their guy,” Raze suggested, closing the door and crouching behind Charles’ seat, leaning an arm on the back of it. “Then they wipe her off the map.”

“Hm, self-appointed world security services attacking an island full of mutants,” Daken mused. “I think I’ve seen this episode before.”

“The director knows she’d have a war on her hands if she went after Madripoor,” Charles Junior said, starting the takeoff thrusters. “The per-capita mutant population here has jumped in the last year to be higher than any region of the world apart from Salem. Even the ‘good mutants’ would have to respond to an attack on it. SHIELD would be crucified in the world press as well as having a hell of a fight on their hands. And that’s not even taking into account all the major criminal organizations that have an _awful_ lot of properties and interests invested in Madripoor. That’s why SHIELD _hasn’t_ gone after Mystique yet even though they know exactly where she lives. They can’t touch Madripoor.”

“And I’m sure it will be a few hours yet before Hill organizes a stealth team competent to retrieve their agent without risking conflict with the ticking bomb that is Madripoor. So, a flawlessly executed mission and a clean getaway. An all around successful trip,” Daken said, gazing out at the ocean as they shot off toward the stratosphere. “I’d suggest champagne, but seeing as you’re both toddlers...”

“There was one small flaw,” Charles Junior corrected. “Or rather, there _might_ have been.”

Daken frowned, glancing at him. “Oh?”

Charles Junior shook his head. “Somebody was counter-hacking me while we were waiting for Mystique. I think he may have broken through for a second or two.”

Daken’s frown deepened. “I thought you said your wonderful future-education would solve that sort of thing.”

“It _should_ have,” Charles Junior’s face twitched in irritation and he shot Daken a sideways glare. “Your computer technology is practically neolithic compared to what exists in our time. I ought to be seventeen years ahead of any programmer or hacker in the world. Toying with your primitive security nets is child’s play.”

“And yet somebody on Raven’s staff gave you a run for your money?” Daken raised an eyebrow.

“Probably a technopath or an omniglot,” Charles Junior said dismissively, shaking his head. “Mystique employs mutants preferentially, so it’s not that surprising. It hardly matters. Either they couldn’t figure out what I was doing or they didn’t inform Mystique. She was blindsided and that was the goal.”

“Sloppiness ‘hardly matters’? Hm, well, let’s see how long that philosophy serves you,” Daken sniffed, leaning back in his chair.

“I wasn’t _sloppy_ ,” Charles Junior hissed, glaring.

“We got it _done_ , ass-hole,” Raze snarled. “It’s not like _you_ did anything but _talk_.”

“Oh no, did I hurt the little bald boy’s _feelings?_ I’m so sorry. I’ll try to be _nicer_.” Daken rolled his eyes.

000

The secretary had been staring vacantly into space when Victor left Raven’s office. He’d snapped his fingers in front of her face three times before she woke up and got flustered. She now claimed that she’d only seen Raven going into the office that morning, no one else; which meant she hadn’t been the one behind the wheel when she’d talked about Daken earlier. Kid-Xavier was a puppeteer. Charles Xavier’s powers and Raven Darkholme’s dirty dealing- that was pants-soiling scary.

Now that the kid was gone, Victor could find his scent (almost identical to the real Xavier’s) along with Daken and what smelled like Raven but had probably been Raze. While Shogun announced he was going back to the plane, Victor followed the trail to an elevator with a handprint scanner that rejected him. He glared at it in useless frustration for a minute. What was he doing? The baby was probably long gone, it must have left with Laura, and it was almost definitely better off wherever she was taking it. Because Raven was the same as ever. Only Victor had been turned inside out. Raven was back to being the same cold, hard bitch she’d ever been, and she’d twist that baby’s guts just like she’d done Anna-Marie’s.

Raven numbered as one of the meanest, coldest, most poisonous women Victor had ever known, so why couldn’t he convince his damned heart? Because she’d been right next to him when his brain got scrambled? Because she’d been in his sights when the shape of his world changed? Close enough to reach out and touch, but still too far away. Because now she was just the same as ever and he was left mourning the woman she might have been.

Bitch or not, right now Raven was in pain and Victor wanted to fix it, but he couldn’t do a damned thing. He couldn’t (wouldn’t) get that baby back for her, and she wasn’t going to let anybody (especially him) try to comfort her. So he was left wandering around useless, waiting for the woman he shouldn’t love to come out of her office. He made his way back to the little waiting area in front of the secretary’s desk and glared at the expensive double doors again for a moment before turning around and considering another recent scent- the little security mouse. She’d said that somebody hacked the security feeds today, to make sure Raven didn’t have any warning obviously, and Victor’s money was on Kid-Xavier.

He followed the mouse’s scent to the elevator and scrutinized the panel carefully (hundreds of people had touched it today) to find the floor she’d picked. He followed the trail down several hallways, puzzling as she hadn’t seemed to be headed out or toward the cyber-security division, before the trail abruptly went cold. Victor stood on the spot, turning around slowly and testing the air. It just stopped. As if the mouse had vanished into thin air. A teleporter? Not impossible, Raven had plenty of mutants on the payroll.

“ _Creed!_ ”

Victor started and turned, to find Raven baring down on him, apparently all tapped out on misery and making up the difference with anger. “ _What?_ ” he snapped, taking a defensive posture.

“Stop _wasting_ time! Get off your damned ass and _find_ Daken!” Raven demanded.

Victor’s stomach clenched and he tried to identify the sensation. Pity? Was this what pity felt like? “... Raven, he’s gone. He wouldn’t have pulled something like this without a solid getaway plan... And that baby left hours ago with Laura.”

“ _Then find where he’s been!_ ” Raven shouted, almost screamed. “I want to know _everywhere_ they were! I want to know _everyone_ they _spoke_ to! I want to know _how_ they got onto _my island!_ I want to know _where_ they’re _going!_ ”

Victor tried to come up with an answer and then just sighed. “Okay,” he nodded.

000

Laura had stood within the room Storm offered her and stared out of the window at the darkened school grounds for a while before making her way into the hall and wandering back toward the faculty dorms. It was late now, the halls were deserted and quiet, but as she approached her destination, Laura could hear the faint sounds of videogame music within the room. She knocked and heard the ‘ding’ of the game being paused and footsteps across the floor before the door opened and Jubilee looked up at her, instantly breaking into a grin.

“You’re back!” Jubilee exclaimed in a loud whisper, starting to move and then halting herself, tempering her natural inclination to go for a hug, and reached instead for Laura’s hand, pulling her into the room. “That’s great! You know Kitty Cerebra-called me today and she was all freaked that you were hanging out with Daken. I told her it was cool, but she totally didn’t believe me,” she said, leading Laura towards the couch and then switching the television off. “She also didn’t know what I was talking about when I asked about his arm, so, what, were your wacky hijinks finding him a miracle cure or something?”

“That was first,” Laura agreed with a nod as she sank onto the couch. “After he was in fit condition, I checked in with my team to assure them I was all right, and then we went to search for Raze.”

“Raze? Future-punk of time-travel mischief?” Jubilee asked, frowning.

“He was born thirteen weeks ago,” Laura explained.

“ _Oh!_ ” Jubilee exclaimed and then slapped her hands over her mouth and turned to look at the crib where Shogo was sleeping. He sighed and turned his head the other way, but didn’t wake. “ _Oh my God!_ ” Jubilee whispered, looking back at Laura. “Is he _here?_ Did you bring him _here?_ ”

Laura nodded. “I felt that Nightcrawler would be the best potential custodian,” she explained.

“ _Oh my God!_ ” Jubilee bounced a little. “Is he blue or does he turn blue later? _Is he a tiny little smurf baby?_ ”

“Yes.”

“ _Oh my God!_ That’s _adorable!_ ” she giggled into her knuckles. “We’re going to need a Jean Gray’s Preschool at this rate.”

“I want him to be happy,” Laura said softly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. “I want him to be different from the one who came from the future... Mystique taught him only hate and revenge.”

Jubilee nodded. “How did you find him? And what d’ja do with Daken?” she asked.

“We found the older Raze and he led us to his infant self,” Laura said, not hesitating as she’d done with Storm. “Daken is with him now.”

“What, like, kinda-psycho babysitting more-psycho?”

“Confronting Mystique.”

“Oh...” Jubilee cringed.

“I am waiting here for Daken... I assume he will bring the older Raze with him,” Laura said slowly, feeling more than a little dubious about that. But it was better than letting them wander off on their own. “I used a teleportation devise to come ahead of them, so it will be several hours before they catch up.”

Jubilee nodded. “Okay... So what’s the plan for older-Raze? Are we gonna try and send him home with a stern warning or something?”

“I’m... not sure,” Laura shook her head. “We’ve changed his past... I’m not sure what happens now.”

“I guess... we ask Hank?” Jubilee said, biting her lip. “But when the timeline got pulled out from under Rachel, she got stuck here. Because the future where she was born didn’t exist anymore... I don’t know if that... I mean, Raze’s already been _born_ , so, I don’t know how that works...”

“I’m not sure...” Laura said again.

000

Raven stared out across her island, the image faintly overlaid with her own reflection, through the large windows behind her desk. She looked awful. She looked miserable. She was. Daken must have gotten a good laugh out of it. And the rest of them. Damn Victor and Shogun for not staying in the plane. For seeing her in her weakness. She should end both of them. As soon as she got herself together enough to face the world outside her office.

Once upon a time, for two days, she had had a son who loved her. And he had only loved her because the Raven Darkholme of _his_ world was entirely unlike her. How had he described her? His hero? And the look he had given her when they first spoke, so much guilt and shame, afraid she would be disappointed- repulsed- by the blood-thirsty, revenge-driven man he had become. Because she looked like his mother. Raven closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the glass.

That strange, otherworldly doppelganger of Kurt had so happily called her ‘mother’ and spoken to her in gentle, adoring terms, and for two days she had had the love of a child. He’d loved her for being alive and for not being ashamed of the killer he’d become, because she was more broken and rotten than he could ever be. He’d loved her because she had no room to judge him. And then he was gone, and the painful, gaping hole that left in her heart had caught her completely off guard.

And when she’d held Raze for the first time, after breaking the midwife’s neck to ensure her silence, and brushed away his tears as he squalled at the ordeal and indignity of birth, she’d promised herself that she’d know that love again. He’d been so perfect, promised so much, his eyes a reflection of her own, his skin not only the same color as hers but the same texture as well, not velvet like Kurt. The first child she’d had that was _hers_ , not its father’s. He was supposed to love her. Why didn’t he love her? What had gone wrong?

Raven hugged her arms around her waist and squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t her fault. She had done everything _right_. She had kept him. She had _protected_ him and given him everything he needed, safely hidden away from the humans that would hurt and exploit him. And as if Raze’s loathing wasn’t enough, Charles’ son blamed her for the death of some _damned Sapien cow_. He was too much Charles’ son- caring more for _them_ than his own kind. It wasn’t her _fault_.

She bit her lip and shook her head, composing herself. She didn’t have _time_ to sit here feeling sorry for herself. And damned if she wasn’t going to fight this. Raven glared back at her reflection for a moment before turning, recomposing herself as she walked toward the doors, and flung both open as she exited her office. Her secretary looked up, startled, as she exited, and Victor eyed her from where he was leaned against the wall a few feet beyond the doors.

“Are you--” the idiot started.

“We’re wasting time,” Raven snapped at him. “Get back to the plane.” She swept past him toward the elevator and Victor fell into her wake.

“Are we going after them?” he asked.

“Of _course_ we are,” Raven sneered, casting a contemptuous look over her shoulder.

“Any idea where they’re headed?”

“The _school_ , obviously,” she rolled her eyes.

“Great. Which one?” Victor raised an eyebrow at her.

Raven glared at him as they stepped into the elevator. He was trying to be clever, damn him. “X-23’s been running with Summers’ X-Men,” she noted, crossing her arms and turning her glare on the elevator doors. “But her _father’s_ school is much _homier_.”

“Do we even know where Summers is?”

“ _I_ do,” Raven sniffed as the doors opened onto the roof and she headed out toward where the Changeling was perched on the landing pad.

“So what, you’re going to storm the school and take on all the X-Men at once?” Victor asked behind her. “ _That_ your plan? Because it’s _not_ a great one.”

“Stop trying to _think_ , Victor,” Raven snarled back at him as they climbed the ramp into the Changeling. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”

000

 “Breakfast in the teachers’ lounge!” Jubilee announced, giving a little skip and pulling Laura along after her as Shogo giggled against her shoulder. “We’ll order something up, what would you like?”

Laura tilted her head to the side and cast her a suspicious look. “Why?” she asked.

“Soooo... after you were here the other day, Julian was informed exactly how many _years_ of detention he’d get if he told the other students about Daken being here,” Jubilee explained and then bit her lip for a moment, wrinkling her nose. “And so he tricked Pixie into spilling the beans instead. He got the detention and an ‘I am very disappointed in you’ speech from Storm.”

“And the students know about Daken,” Laura said.

“Yeah...” Jubilee nodded, cringing a little, more at the prospect of Daken-related drama than at the feeling of Shogo grabbing a handful of her hair to chew on.

“I see. And we will eat in the teachers’ lounge to avoid confrontation with my peers,” Laura extrapolated.

“Confrontations are just a little better _after_ breakfast, y’know?” Jubilee said, shrugging and trying to draw Shogo’s attention to his plastic keys clipped to the shoulder-strap of the backpack. No luck. She should stop using shampoo that smelled like peaches.

“And not in the cafeteria,” Laura noted. “There are... many students I don’t know. I would prefer to talk just to my friends.”

“ _Right_ ,” Jubilee agreed. “So teachers’ lounge breakfast it is.”

Bobby and Angelica were debating something sports-related when Jubilee pulled the door open and dragged Laura through. Hank was sitting still and silent, eyes not quite open and wearing his hasn’t-had-the-third-cup-of-coffee-yet face, hunched at the corner of the table. Monet was reading the newspaper and eating Cheerios, and Rachel was doing furious battle with the espresso machine. “Good morning, everybody!” Jubilee waved her hand in the air. “Anybody who didn’t get the memo: Laura’s back!”

“You are too chipper for seven o-clock,” Monet drawled and then glanced up at Laura. “And the one-armed man?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Daken is recovered and will catch up with me later,” Laura replied.

“Wait, _recovered?_ ” Bobby asked, looking up sharply with a worried frown. “As in- back to being a fully operational _killing-machine?_ ”

“He is not a machine,” Laura said in a voice with a cold, hard edge to it. The room went quiet as nearly everybody turned to look at her, expressions showing varying levels of concern.

Hank sipped his coffee.

“ _No_ , he’s a _diva_ ,” Jubilee offered a laugh that was just a tiny bit forced. “Anyway, more on that later. Where’s Kurt where’s Kurt where’s Kurt?! I wanna meet the little guy!”

“What are you _talking_ about, Jubes?” Monet demanded, giving her the special I-think-you’re-crazy look she reserved just for Jubilee.

Whether or not Jubilee could have supplied a coherent answer would never be known, because she was interrupted by purple-explody and the subsequent adorable sound of baby-sneezes. “Guten Morgen meine Freunde!” Kurt greeted brightly, arms cradling a tiny, blue baby who sneezed again as the sulfur dissipated and looked generally offended.

“Oh my God- he _is_ a little smurf!” Jubilee squealed in delight, bouncing on her toes and Shogo giggled at the jostle. “That is so _cute!_ ”

“That- that’s a _baby_ ,” Bobby said, staring.

“ _Brilliant_ deduction, Sherlock,” Monet sneered.

“Oh my God,” Rachel whispered under her breath, hand over her mouth.

“That’s a _baby_ ,” Bobby repeated, stuck on a loop.

Hank sipped his coffee.

“Kurt, what the _heck?_ ” Angelica demanded, gesturing helplessly at the baby.

“Raze,” Rachel said, lowering her hand, eyes wide and worried. “That’s _Raze_ , isn’t it?”

“Indeed he is,” Kurt said with a nod, his cheery smile getting a hint of seriousness to it. “Laura arrived with him last night.”

“That’s a _time-travel_ baby?” Bobby demanded.

“He is in his proper time,” Laura corrected, crossing her arms. “He was born three months ago.”

“So, like, right before the future attacked?” Monet asked, tilting her head.

“They waited until after they were born,” Rachel said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “To be sure they didn’t un-make themselves. Of _course_ they did.”

Hank sipped his coffee.

“So, wait, uh, just because things went really kinda fast during the whole future attacks thing-” Bobby scrubbed at his hair in frustration for a moment and then pointed at Laura and Kurt, “-He’s _your_ brother and _your_ brother too? Am I getting that right?”

“Oh a genetic level, he could likely be passed off as my offspring,” Laura said calmly, crossing her arms. “And if the court does not accept Nightcrawler’s bid for custodianship, I will make that claim. Whether or not anyone actually believed it, the court would not be able to refute the genetic evidence.”

“Advantage of being a clone, huh?” Jubilee smirked.

“We’ll hope it doesn’t come to that,” Kurt said, smiling at her. “Jennifer will not let us down.”

“So Kurt’s going to raise him?” Angelica asked, leaning across the table, a little bit wide-eyed, to get a better look at Raze. “Is that a good idea?”

“The alternative is letting him turn into the new and not all that improved Mystique,” Rachel pointed out. “I have a lot more faith in Kurt’s ability to instill morality in that baby than their mother’s.”

“And I appreciate your faith,” Kurt said.

“Besides, look at his chubby little blue face! You _know_ you love him already. So _cuuute_ ,” Jubilee intoned, wrestling with Shogo’s backpack and pulling him out of it to hold up in front of her. “Look at the baby, Shogo. See the baby? Say ‘hi’ to the baby.”

“Buh,” Shogo said, waving a pudgy hand at Raze.

“So _cuuute_. You guys are gonna be _friends_ ,” Jubilee giggled, giving Shogo a hug and then holding him out to Laura, who looked momentarily alarmed but lifted her arms and accepted him while Jubilee went to pull his cereal out of the cabinet.

“It will be good, but I think we will have to monitor playtime very carefully,” Kurt said, sliding into the chair next to Hank. “Raze _bites_ ,” he explained, grinning sheepishly and perching Raze on the edge of the table, supporting him loosely around the waist so that Raze could sit up and look around the room with a moody, suspicious air.

Hank reached the bottom of his coffee cup and looked blearily to his left, a vaguely puzzled expression taking root on his face as he examined Raze, who glowered back up at him. “... That’s a baby...” he mumbled, about thirty percent awake.

“ _Pfffffff!_ ” Monet blew irritably through her teeth and tossed her newspaper as Jubilee laughed and grabbed the coffee pot to pour Hank another cup.

000

There were flattened plants and indentations in the soft ground where some kind of aircraft had been settled. Bigger than a fighter jet, smaller than a personnel transport. Probably cloaked if it had gotten on and off Madripoor without raising any alarms. Given the SHIELD prison guard Victor had found bound and gagged in a skeazy little hotel an hour ago (and left there, resolutely deciding he hadn’t seen anything, because he was _not_ stepping in _that_ ) he had a fair idea what insignia the plane likely had on it.

Victor sighed and toed at one of the depressions. He’d been right, of course, Daken was long gone. The clearing did hold a few points of interest though; there had been a skirmish. He could smell Daken’s blood. Victor crouched down near one of the places it had hit the ground and closed his eyes, breathing deep and taking in a better picture of what happened. Raze had opened Daken up twice, and Daken apparently hadn’t hit back. Surprising- pleasantly so. Apparently he was taking the big brother roll to heart. He’d definitely been calmer in Laura’s presence, as far as Victor had observed aboard the Changeling, but then _she_ was generally calm. Raze was a ball of rage, but it seemed Daken was still able to keep his cool for this sibling too.

There may be hope for the kid yet. He was a _mean_ son of a bitch, no doubt, but not as cold as Logan had taken him for. Daken was a pitbull, but even a pitbull wanted a pat on the head and a ‘good boy’ more than just about anything in the world. Logan had missed that. Victor had used it. And Laura was the one to finally take that stray in out of the rain. If there was hope for the kid, it was because of her. “You’re the best of us, little girl,” Victor sighed, standing up and shaking his head. He hooked his thumbs over his belt and gazed up at the sky. “... Take care of your brothers.” And he’d take care of Raven. Or try to, anyway. Keeping her out of trouble was too tall an order to meet, but maybe he could at least keep her away from Logan’s brood.

He sighed again, turning back towards the city, and started the long trudge back to Raven’s tower, trying to come up with some kind of argument for why she shouldn’t chase those kids to the ends of the Earth.

000

“ _Doctor Richards: You are receiving a call from an encrypted source,_ ” a HERBIE unit announced, hovering next to the table as Reed watched Mik pour far more batter than was necessary or advisable into the waffle iron.

“Am I?” Reed rescued a glass of orange juice from behind Artie’s elbow and climbed to his feet.

“ _Affirmative,_ ” the HERBIE unit agreed, floating along after him as Reed stepped out of the dining room.

“Put it through,” Reed said, once the door had closed behind them, cutting off the sounds of overly rambunctious breakfast.

The HERBIE unit’s screen switched to an image of Daken, holding the tablet or phone he was calling from with a remarkably steady hand, and Laura off to the side, behind the controls of some kind of vehicle. “ _Good morning, Richards. Would you mind terribly if we parked a stealth jet on your roof?_ ” Daken asked.

Reed frowned and felt a sigh coming on. “What happened to the teleportation belts I gave you?” he asked.

“ _Unforeseen complications. Turns out there were **two** irritating brats that needed extraction. I was forced to improvise,_ ” Daken said, and Laura cast him a glare and a snarl.

“... And you stole a stealth jet,” Reed noted. “Do I want to ask _who_ you stole it from?”

“ _Probably not,_ ” Daken offered a lopsided shrug and a grin. “ _But you will be pleased to know the mission was successful and had zero casualties of any kind. Some parties might have suffered a bruise or two, but no blood was drawn and everybody lived happily ever after._ ”

“That... is good,” Reed admitted.

“ _So the parking situation...?_ ” Daken prompted.

“It’s fine. I take it you’re close?”

“ _I’ll see you in a few minutes,_ ” Daken said with that smirk that fell somewhere between charming and unsettling, before the call ended and the HERBIE unit’s screen went back to the simple vector smiley-face that the children liked.

Reed shook his head and ran a hand through his hair, then he ducked back into the dining room, where Bentley and Valeria had started some kind of argument about equitable butter distribution. “Laura and Daken are back,” he announced. “I’m going to go meet them on the roof.”

“The _roof?_ ” Susan asked, looking up from where she was trying to comfort Adolf over the blueberry syrup having touched his hash browns.

“They’re in a stealth jet. I’m not asking where they got it,” Reed sighed.

“I’ll come with,” Johnny called, as he helped Onome mop up spilled orange juice with handfuls of paper napkins. A few minutes later he was trying to wipe the lingering stickiness off his hands while he trailed alongside Reed. “So. He stole a plane?” Johnny asked, an amused quirk to his lips.

“I’ve decided I don’t want to know anymore about the plane,” Reed said and Johnny laughed.

When they reached the roof, the air pummeled them and the sounds of engines could be heard, but all Reed could see was a vague shimmery warping in a particular patch of sky. Cloaking tech, almost certainly SHIELD. Damn it. Reed quietly hoped they didn’t uncloak as he heard the landing gear set down and the engines power off. A few minutes later, a panel opened up, the plane around it still cloaked, and Daken started climbing out of it while arguing with someone inside.

“No, _you’re_ coming too,” Daken said.

“ _Whyyy?_ ” The whine almost wasn’t recognizable as Laura’s voice.

“Get _out_ here,” Daken snapped. Laura immerged grumbling under her breath and looking peevish, as Daken caught her arm and tugged her toward Reed and Johnny.

“Is... something wrong?” Reed asked, glancing at Laura, who shoved her hands into her pockets and ignored everyone.

“No no, not at all. Everything’s _peachy_ ,” Daken rolled his eyes and held out two of the teleportation belts Reed had given Laura the previous day. “I’ll get the other one back to you a bit later. It’s on a trip right now. I just had a question-slash-concern to ask my doctor about.”

“Your healing factor?” Johnny asked, eyes sweeping over Daken with a hint of worry.

“That’s fine. Working perfectly,” Daken waved him off and looked at Reed. “I was wondering- a paternity test would be a fairly simple matter for a super-scientist such as yourself to manage, yes?”

“Paterni- wait, _what?_ ” Laura looked up at him sharply.

“I... yes?”

“Good, because I need to know if this is my brother or my son,” Daken said.

Reed’s mind was attempting to compile his confusion into an articulate question as Laura’s expression when from suspicious to livid and her skin shivered, rippled, and changed along with everything else about her. “ _Yooou SLEPT with her?!_ ” A man- no, a teenager- an inch or two taller than the ‘Laura’ who had been standing there a moment before, with the same coloration as Mystique, was now occupying the spot and glaring up at Daken.

“Oh holy _shit_ ,” Johnny swore.

“I am not going to sugar-coat it for you, Raze. _Everybody_ has slept with your mother,” Daken replied, crossing his arms. “Some have simply done it a bit more _knowingly_ than others.”

“I can’t-- You-- You just--” the boy flustered furiously and then in a sudden snap of movement, he swung out and punched Daken across the face. Or rather, Reed had _thought_ it was a punch before he took in how much _blood_ it had drawn.

“ _Daken!_ ” Johnny lunged forward and grabbed the boy’s arm, starting to drag him back.

The next second the boy was rounding on Johnny, the other fist raised and claws extended, before Daken grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up off his feet, glaring at him out of one eye, the left side of his face flayed open. “ _Knock it off!_ ” Daken snarled. “What are you, _three years old?_ ” The boy spit in his face and glared defiantly back. “... _Stop it_ ,” Daken hissed, low and dangerous. The boy kept glaring.

The slashes across Daken’s face were already closing as the two went quiet, glaring at each other. “... The computer in my lab should be able to run the analysis fairly quickly,” Reed said, forcing a calm, even tone.

“Thank you,” Daken said in a stiff voice as he loosened his grip on the boy but kept glaring. “Put them _away_ ,” he ordered. The boy emitted a low rumbling in the back of his throat. “And stop _growling_. You’re not an animal.”

“Okay, _seriously_ , kid? Raze?” Johnny called. “Do you want to _know_ or do you just want to just sit around being mad?”

The boy’s eyes flicked towards Johnny momentarily and then his claws retracted and he shoved his hands into his pockets, turning his head to glare off into space. “Thank you, Johnny,” Daken said, pushing some blood-soaked hair back to get it away from the laceration that arched through his eye and across his forehead. “Let’s get this over with then.”

000

“Hey, Kurt. What’s up?”Anna-Marie murmured, pinching her phone between her ear and her shoulder as she poked through the newspaper around a bowl of leftover peach cobbler.

“ _Are you busy?_ ” Kurt asked.

“Not p’ticularly,” she said, pushing the last bite into her mouth before shifting to hold the phone with one hand and pick up her bowl with the other, carrying it to the sink. “Why?”

“ _There is someone you must meet, and I was hoping you might help me with some shopping,_ ” Kurt said.

“Sure, hon. When?” Anna-Marie asked, turning on the sink and rinsing her bowl. There was half a second of static and then, through the window over the sink, she saw a purple puff appear out by the front gate. She grinned and shook her head.

“ _How about now?_ ”

“Ah’ll go get my shoes,” she chuckled, and then addressed the house. “Hey house, let Kurt in, all right?” she called.

The security system gave an acknowledging chime as Anna-Marie hustled up the stairs. She grabbed her sneakers and purse, glanced in the mirror briefly to make sure her hair wasn’t doing anything especially embarrassing, and headed back down to the gallery. Kurt was standing just inside the door, tail flipping around excitedly, and there was a _God damned baby_ in his arms.

“Kurt, _what the hell is that?!_ ” Anna-Marie exclaimed, halfway down the stairs.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “I think you mean ‘who’,” he noted.

“Where the _hell_ did you get damned _baby?!_ ” Anna-Marie demanded. “When did this happen?!” She flew the rest of the way down to get a closer look at the tiny, indigo person.

“His name is Raze Darkholme.” Kurt said calmly, and that stopped Anna-Marie dead in her tracks.

She stared at Kurt, then down at the baby, then back at Kurt. She remembered that name. “... F’real?” she asked softly. Because this time-travel stuff, most of the time it _didn’t_ seem real. It was all theoretical futures that never came true. When the attack had happened, and afterward, she’d never really thought, she’d never _seriously_ considered, that ‘Raze’ was real and here and now. But the baby Kurt was holding, he had to have been born before or damn near the time the attack from the future had happened.

“Mhm,” Kurt nodded, looking down at the baby, who had a fistful of his shirt in one hand and was staring at Anna-Marie with huge, yellow eyes. “Laura tracked him down. She brought him to the school last night. I am going to petition for custody,” he said quietly. “And as his mother is currently on SHIELD’s top ten list, and I could be considered his next closest kin, I am quite hopeful the court will find this acceptable.”

“Oh my God, Kurt,” Anna-Marie breathed, hands over her mouth. “Oh my God...”

“There is no need for him to grow up indoctrinated with violence and hate,” Kurt smiled down at the baby.

Anna-Marie reached out and stroked her fingers over the thin, red fluff on the baby’s head. “... You’re gonna be a _great_ dad to him, Kurt,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the idea of 'I am from the future and can therefor easily hack your pathetic modern-times computers' is total comic-book logic, and my only excuse for it is that they _regularly_ do it in Marvel and other comics too. I certainly don't know how to hack a DOS machine, and that's about equivalent to the nonsense I just had C.J. spout, so this is a 'shh, just pretend it makes sense' kind of moment. Or maybe he deliberately learned a lot about computers and tech and stuff; he might have downloaded vintage hacking knowledge from a tech-wiz's head back home at some point. *shrug*
> 
> This chapter had so many little snippets. I'll regroup my troops soon though, and not have to do so much jumping around. It took me a little while to figure out the chronological order for these scenes too, dealing in two different time-zones. Madripoor (or the location where the fictional island or Madripoor is supposed to be) and New York are 12 hours time-difference, so it's basically just reverse AM/PM between the two. I made the scene order a little bit wrong in here, because it really should not have taken Sabertooth most of a day to follow Daken's trail, but I wanted to do a Madripoor scene, then a New York scene, then a Madripoor scene, and so on, and I didn't have another New York scene for nighttime, so I put in one of the morning ones. I think it's a better rhythm and flow for reading, but it does cause that wee little plot-hole.


	11. Feuding Families

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I have nothing against you,” Laura said, glancing away. “And I don’t wish to repudiate the gravity of what was done to you. But Daken is my brother and I will defend him, because I believe that he needs it right now... And I believe that he deserves it.”
> 
> “... What has he done to deserve a second chance?” Evan asked softly, not looking at her.
> 
> “This isn’t his second chance,” Laura replied calmly. “It’s his first.”

Boy-Band-Mystique definitely looked more like Wolverine, Johnny decided, looking for any hint at all of Daken in his face. For a minute, he’d thought maybe the angle of his eyes, but no, that was what Mystique’s looked like, wasn’t it? Mystique’s eyes, Wolverine’s nose, chin, cheekbones (and sideburns). Still, genetics can be funny that way, so a real paternity test probably was the only way to tell.

“Take a _picture_. It’ll last longer,” Boy-Band growled, glaring at Johnny.

“You’re right, it would,” Johnny agreed, pulling out his phone and aiming it at the kid.

“Hey, _fuck off!_ ” Boy-Band snarled as Daken started laughing next to Johnny.

“So this is who you guys had to go rescue from Mystique?” Johnny asked, glancing sideways at Daken.

“No. We rescued the baby from Mystique. _Him_ we liberated from SHIELD custody,” Daken replied with a lopsided shrug.

“Daken...” Reed pinched the bridge of his nose, looking frustrated/resigned/pained.

“Where he was being detained illegally,” Daken added. “More than two months with no formal, or informal, charges brought against him. This is SHIELD’s policy for mutants these days. So long as nobody knows or makes a fuss about it in the media, we are _all_ terrorists and _have_ no constitutional or human rights.”

Reed sighed and shook his head then turned to look at Daken. “What baby?” he asked.

“Him,” Daken said, nodding toward Boy-Band. “This one’s time-displaced by... how many years?”

“Seventeen,” Boy-Band growled, arms crossed and not looking at them. Pouty boy-band boy is pouty.

“Because the X-Men are almost as bad as _you_ people when it comes to time-travel,” Daken sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m _not_ an X-Man,” Boy-Band snapped.

“ _Good_ ,” Daken retorted.

Reed looked back and forth between them with a worried expression. “... And if you took Raze’s infant-self out of continuity while he was in his own past--”

“We collapsed the timeline he came from,” Daken drawled airily. “And he’s stuck now. Like the red-head.”

“Aren’t, like, _half_ the X-Men red-headed time-travelers at this point?” Johnny asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re not far off,” Daken agreed.

“Looks like we have results,” Reed announced, turning back to his biggest screen and throwing a whole bunch of numbers and diagrams up on it.

“What is it?!” Boy-Band demanded, hopping off the counter he’d been perched on and scampering over to Reed’s computer. “What does it say?!”

“... Consistent with immediate relation...” Reed mumbled to himself, poking at the screen with his fingers, pairing points on two of the diagrams and sweeping them away as he continued to mutter under his breath, reading the incomprehensible truckload of data. “... He’s your brother,” Reed announced, raising his voice back to a normal speaking level.

Boy-Band seemed to deflate slightly, looking relieved. Daken was, as usual, unreadable. “Ah,” he said, tapping his manicured nails on the counter dispassionately.

“Ah?” Johnny raised an eyebrow at him.

“... Goes to confirm that Raven bedded both my father and I within a couple weeks, if not hours, of each other,” Daken said in a conversational voice.

“Ah...” Johnny cringed. “I can see where that might be kind of... _weird_.”

“A _bit_ ,” Daken agreed, wrinkling his nose.

000

Laura knew that there was a practice of addressing the deceased through their monuments and likenesses, of asking for guidance or forgiveness or closure through ‘signs’. Laura frowned as she stared at the holographic ‘statue’ and felt uncomfortable in its sterile, scentless non-presence. Even if he were alive, she doubted Logan’s advice would have done her much good; he’d botched any potential relationship with Daken at every turn and he’d apparently put Raze out of his mind entirely, because it was so much easier to pretend that he was just a figment of a future that wouldn’t happen. So what was compelling her to act out this peculiar custom of communing with a monument? What did she want? Approval? Reassurance that bringing Raze here, to Nightcrawler, was the correct course?

She pursed her lips and looked down. The noise-level was low; all the younger students were in classes, with just a handful of upperclassmen scattered around the school on free-periods. She still perhaps should not have gone wandering around the common areas, as most of her former classmates and those who might confront her would be upperclassmen now. Julian certainly would be, and she didn’t know his schedule; even if she did, he might disregard classes if he wished to confront her again. She swallowed and pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen in her face, then startled at a loud slapping sound behind her.

She whipped around, tensed and ready but claws still sheathed, the scent belatedly catching up even as her eyes caught sight of Genesis- Evan- crouched two yards away, apparently just having jumped from the balcony above. The sound must have been from his tennis-shoes hitting the tile. He met her eyes and stared accusingly at her as he straightened up. “... You lied,” he said softly.

“I did not,” Laura replied in a calm, even voice.

“What was that the other day? You pretended he was dead. Or _still_ dead, or whatever,” Evan argued.

“I simply didn’t correct you,” Laura said.

“What, were you testing the waters? To see how I was going to react?” he demanded, voice still quiet with an undercurrent of cool anger.

“That was part of it,” Laura agreed with a nod. “But I didn’t say anything untrue.”

“ _Why are you protecting him?!_ ” Evan shouted suddenly.

“Because nobody else will,” Laura said, maintaining her own calm. “Because nobody else ever has.”

“Maybe because he doesn’t _deserve_ it!” Evan snapped.

Laura stared back at him silently for a few seconds before asking, “Does an infant have to _earn_ protection?”

“He’s _not_ an infant.”

“He was. And he wasn’t protected,” Laura reasoned. “So maybe he’s owed the protection he didn’t receive then.”

“He’s a _monster!_ ”

“And what are you?”

Evan sucked in a breath and took half a step back, brows lifting and drawing together. The anger in his eyes was diluted by hurt.

“... Daken was manufactured. To be a weapon. Just like me,” Laura said and finally lowered her gaze. “He didn’t choose to be what he is. Someone else chose for him. Someone taught him that he was less than human, taught him so often and so brutally that he was made to believe it.”

Evan was biting his lip and trembling. “... And you think that just excuses everything he did?” he asked, voice quiet again.

“... Daken doesn’t require your absolution, and I don’t require your approval,” Laura replied.

“After what he did--”

“He yelled at you. And he hit you. And he scared you,” Laura cut him off, crossing her arms and giving Evan an unimpressed look.

He stared at her silently again for a few moments. “... The last image I have of my parents is him and Sabertooth standing over their dead bodies,” he said, looking at the floor. “And I _know_ that that’s all that they ever were. Images. My parents weren’t real. But I believed in them, until _he_ took them away. So in my head, Daken and Sabertooth killed my parents.”

Laura processed that for a while, biting the side of her tongue and thinking it over. “... That image came from a psychic simulation?” she asked and watched Evan frown, predicting where she was going with the question. “And so it wasn’t Daken who put it into your mind. It was Shadow King.”

“Daken was _part_ of it!” Evan protested.

“Daken, and his image, were being used,” Laura retorted. “ _He_ was Sabertooth’s end goal. You were just bait, and Daken wasn’t the one who chose you to fill that role.”

“How do _you_ know?” Evan snapped, eyes narrowing to a glare.

“Because Daken would have chosen a girl,” Laura said flatly.

Evan frowned again, uncertainty flitting across his face and his mouth opened twice without finding words before he finally asked again, “How do you know?”

“Because I know Daken better than anyone now,” she said, and even if she didn’t know the details of his life, and even if she herself couldn’t quite tell when he was lying, she was fairly certain that there really wasn’t anybody else alive now who knew him, could read him, as well as Laura could, which was only a little. “And I know,” she continued calmly, “that he would have chosen a girl. Ichiki Hisako or Idie Okonkwo most likely.”

“... Why?” Evan asked, discomfort beginning to displace righteous anger.

“... Because he believes that Logan would have loved him if he were born a girl,” Laura said. It was only a vague theory really, but she made her voice sound certain.

“... That’s crazy.”

“What led you to believe Daken was sane?” Laura asked.

Evan was quiet.

“I have nothing against you,” Laura said, glancing away. “And I don’t wish to repudiate the gravity of what was done to you. But Daken is my brother and I will defend him, because I believe that he needs it right now... And I believe that he deserves it.”

“... What has he done to deserve a second chance?” Evan asked softly, not looking at her.

“This isn’t his second chance,” Laura replied calmly. “It’s his first.”

000

Raven walked into the control room and froze, glaring daggers at the back of Victor’s head. “... That computer is voice-print protected,” she hissed.

“Which works a lot better if you don’t leave it logged in when you wander off,” Victor retorted. “You a bit distracted maybe?” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“ _What_ are you doing?” Raven demanded, storming up behind him and looking at the monitor he was sitting in front of. He was reading her file on Daken. Why? Victor knew him as well, if not better, than she did.

Victor sighed and shrugged. “I’m trying to figure out when the kid got all sentimental about the family thing. Thought maybe a little chapter review might help.”

“It’s obviously X-23’s doing,” Raven snorted. “Daken’s a trained dog that can barely even function off his leash. Next thing you know she’ll have him wearing an X.”

Victor gave a short bark of laughter. “That’ll be the day.”

“And _you_ won’t live to see it if you don’t get off of my bridge right _now_ ,” Raven snapped, crossing her arms and glaring down at him. “Get out of my hair and be ready to jump when I need you. Let’s hope you can at least provide Daken a reasonable _challenge_ this time.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re in a mood, I get it,” Victor grumbled, rolling his eyes and climbing out of the chair. “Don’t get your panties in a knot, _Mommy_ , we’ll catch up.”

Raven snarled, shaping her hand into a spike and punching it through the oaf’s lower back. He grunted and staggered, apparently knocked off balance enough that he went down when she delivered a kick between his shoulder blades. “You _decrepit_ , lumbering sack of _worthless meat_ ,” she hissed, grabbing him by the hair.

“Hey!” he protested but didn’t fight back.

“Don’t think for a moment I don’t have ways to kill even _you_.” Raven twisted her fist in his hair. “You are alive _only_ because you are still useful to me. Any rapport we might have once had is _dead_ , so don’t rely on my sentimentality to save you.”

“I _get_ it. Lay off,” Victor growled, glaring at her but not lashing out.

“Get off my floor, you pathetic, washed-up has-been,” Raven sneered, straightening up and turning her back on him in disgust. He didn’t even try to strike her from behind. Useless, broken creature.

000

Charles and Daken sat perched on an old fence of split logs that circled the field of nothing in particular across the rural little street from 1407 Graymalkin Lane. The early fall sun might have been uncomfortably warm if Charles weren’t sipping on twenty-four ounces of soda (that was primarily ice) as they watched the gates and tall hedge that camouflaged a razor wire fence. The silence was definitely uncomfortable. Daken’s mind was a fortress and Charles had to keep his thoughts well away from the school to keep from being noticed by one of the resident telepaths. He sighed and tapped his heel lightly against the fence.

“Heads up,” Daken whispered, nodding, and Charles followed his gaze to see a German shepherd trotting along the side of the road.

Charles watched it carefully and nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a handheld radio. The way it moved was too graceful, too smooth, and the feet came down too heavily, because it was well more than the eighty pounds a dog that size should have been. He held the radio near his lips and paused as he watched the shepherd glance around, looking up and down the street, and looking right through Charles and Daken without seeing them. A moment later, it pushed itself up, shifting into a young girl in a plaid-skirted uniform.

“Contact,” Charles said into the radio. “Front gate. Asian girl with long hair.”

“Got her,” Raze’s voice crackled back.

Daken chuckled quietly as Mystique pressed her hand against a panel on the side of the gate and it slid open with a cheerful greeting. “Simply _marvelous_ security they have here,” he said.

“Oh yes. McCoy’s truly outdone himself,” Charles agreed. “But wouldn’t it be troublesome if any of those dangerous people they’re trying to keep out had some sort of, oh I don’t know, special powers?”

“Surely not. Why even joke about such a ludicrous notion?”

“You’re right. Far too whimsical to be considered,” Charles smirked, taking a sip of his soda. “... How long should we wait?” he asked, sobering as he watched the school with a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“He has the radio,” Daken shrugged unconcernedly. “We’ll either hear a lot of swearing or see a thunderhead forming if he runs into trouble, I expect.”

Charles frowned, glancing at him. “Monroe isn’t the only potential... hazard. There are half a dozen or more omega-level X-Men in there before you even get to considering the students,” he pointed out.

“But how many of them would be fast enough to incapacitate Raze before he could hit a button and exercise his foul mouth? If ‘Iceman’ or some other sycophant in a costume takes him down, I imagine we’ll hear all about it,” Daken reasoned.

“Nothing is faster than telepathy,” Charles said, scraping at some splintering wood with the heal of his shoe.

“I thought you built him a little wall,” Daken glanced sideways at him.

“I did, and they shouldn’t notice him, but if they attacked him _outright_ , there’s at least two telepaths in that building of a high enough caliber to potentially knock him out,” Charles said.

“Well then, in such a circumstance, I suppose we would have to trust Laura to defuse the situation,” Daken gave a lopsided shrug and leaned an elbow on one of the fenceposts.

Charles narrowed his eyes, turning his glare back toward the school. “ _She’s_ the entire reason we ended up in that damned prison,” he growled.

“Really? I rather thought _you_ and your arrogance and poor-planning were to blame,” Daken sniffed.

Charles clenched his teeth for a moment and then took another sip of his soda as they lapsed back into strained silence.

000

“Ah can’t even tell which way is right-side-up on this stupid thing,” Anna-Marie complained, glaring at the assembly instructions for the crib.

“I think we may be missing a bolt,” Kurt noted, squinting at the little plastic bag of fasteners.

“Damned Ikea. Should have got that one at the consignment place that was already set up,” Anna-Marie grimaced.

“There was _rust_ on it,” Kurt wrinkled his nose. “And I don’t think I like metal cribs even if there wasn’t. It just seems... cold.”

“Well this thing ain’t gonna be very feng shui neither, if Ah’m the one buildin’ it,” Anna-Marie sighed and then looked up as there was a knock on the door. She glanced at Kurt and then walked over to answer it. She started slightly when she opened the door and Kurt glanced around her to see Ruth and Lin Li standing patiently in the hall. “Ruth, honey, what are ya’ll doin’ here?”

“I was looking forward to seeing you,” Ruth said, smiling up at Anna-Marie. It was, as usual, a bit hard to tell if her use of the word ‘seeing’ was meant to be a joke.

Anna-Marie smiled and shook her head. “Of course you did. How are ya, shug?”

“I have a friend,” Ruth replied, tilting her head in Lin Li’s direction. “She doesn’t think I’m creepy.”

“Well that’s _great_ , Ruth!” Anna-Marie said, putting a hand on Ruth’s shoulder and smiling at Lin Li. “That’s _great_ to hear. Ah’m glad.”

Ruth nodded, looking pleased. “It’s good that you came today. It will be better for her to see you both. Can we hold the baby?” Ruth asked, turning her face in Kurt’s direction.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. “Did the Bamfs tell you about him?” he asked, curious.

“He’s different from the other ones. His life hasn’t happened yet,” Ruth said vaguely, shaking her head even as Lin Li nodded. As usual, Lin Li had a retinue of Bamfs accompanying her; today’s entourage was John, Thomas and James. Thomas abandoned his place next to Lin Li’s right leg and ported into the room next to Raze’s car-seat carrier. He caught the edge and rocked the seat back and forth, grinning at Raze.

Kurt smiled at the girls. “Of course you can hold him. Come in,” he said, waving them in.

The two girls walked into the room, leaving the door hanging open, and crouched in front of the carrier. “Hello, Raze,” Ruth said quietly. “You haven’t been written yet.” She reached out and carefully gathered Raze up out of the carrier. He made a faint sound of indignant protest but settled once he was in her arms.

Ruth rose to her feet and swayed gently, humming as Lin Li stood next to her, silent as usual, watching as Thomas ported to her shoulder and James hopped over and crouched in Raze’s carrier, grinning and throwing his weight back and forth to make it rock. Kurt smiled. “He’s already making friends. Now if _I_ could just make a _crib_ , Raze would have everything he needs,” he noted, picking up one of the side pieces and examining the holes where it was meant to bolt to the front and back pieces.

“You’ll have to do it later,” Ruth said. “You need to talk to her first.”

Kurt frowned slightly, glancing back up at her. As he did, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to see Hisako appearing on the threshold of his new dormitory. She stopped abruptly, just under the doorjamb, and stared at Raze.

“Did you need to speak to me, Hisako?” Kurt asked, setting down the piece of the crib.

“What’s wrong, shug?” Anna-Marie asked, frowning slightly, because Hisako looked shaken.

“She’s angry because she’s hurt. She thought it would be different this time,” Ruth said, shaking her head. “She wanted to protect him so she hid him where nobody could find him. She thought if people knew, they’d all try to take him and use him and turn him into a thing.”

Kurt realized as Ruth spoke that Hisako wasn’t staring at Raze, she was staring at Ruth. Her expression had become lost, confusion and pain mixing on her face and building with every word out of Ruth’s lips as she started to blink rapidly against tears. Kurt bit his lip and he could see Anna-Marie clenching her teeth and her fists, glaring at ‘Hisako’.

“... You shouldn’t be here, Mother,” Kurt said quietly.

“She had to be,” Ruth said quietly. “She had to see.”

“You... You’re...?” ‘Hisako’ whispered, eyes still fixed on Ruth.

“Raven, if you don’t get out of here right now, I--” Anna-Marie started.

“ _Hisako!_ ” an excited voice called and a moment later Roxy was pouncing on the imposter and slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Oh my _gosh_ , I have been looking _everywhere_ for you!” she exclaimed, grin on her face. “You are not going to _believe_ what I just _heard!_ ”

“Bling, get _away_ from her!” Anna-Marie gasped, starting to move toward them and then freezing halfway. Because a flick of her wrist had suddenly brought a handgun out of Roxy’s sleeve and pressed it into the underside of ‘Hisako’s’ jaw.

“See, it turns out some _stupid fucking cow_ doesn’t know how to take a _fucking hint_ and now she’s going to get her brains splattered all over the _ceiling_ ,” definitely- _not_ -Roxy snarled. “Isn’t that a _funny story?_ ” she giggled, snapping back into character.

‘Hisako’ stayed perfectly still, moving only her eyes. “How did you--”

“You just _had_ to push it, _didn’t_ you, _bitch?_ ” ‘Roxy’ snarled.

Anna-Marie threw herself across the room, grabbing Ruth and Lin Li, sweeping them off their feet and flying them into the corner, sheltering the girls and Raze behind her own body. Kurt took a step toward the pair at the door. “... Raze,” he guessed and ‘Roxy’s eyes flicked toward him. “Is that a real gun?” he asked in a low, tight voice. “Did you bring a _gun_ into a _school?_ ”

“Blow it out your ass,” ‘Roxy’ snorted, eyes narrowing.

Kurt lunged forward, wrapping his tail around ‘Roxy’s wrist and twisting the gun toward the ceiling while he grabbed ‘Hisako’ by the shoulder and dragged them both into a teleport. They landed on the street, just outside the fence, and ‘Roxy’ immediately started coughing and sneezing violently. It was just as he remembered Logan doing the first time Kurt had teleported him, the sulfur hitting his heightened senses much harder than most people. Kurt took the opportunity to wrench the gun out of his hand as the imposter’s disguise lost cohesion and left a teenager with Mystique’s coloring and almost Logan’s face, slightly softened and rounded with youth.

Mystique let Hisako’s appearance fall as well but didn’t take an aggressive stance, merely let her arms fall loosely to her sides and her gaze focus on the street. “... They’ll come after him,” she said softly. “If the Homo sapiens find out what he is, they will come after him.”

“So I’m a _‘what’_ now?!” Raze snarled, recovering from his coughing fit and whipping around with short claws extended. Kurt caught him around the waist with his tail and grabbed at his arm.

“ _You are to them!_ ” Mystique shouted, glaring at him, tears on her eyelashes. “Have Daken and X-23 _told_ you what the Homo sapiens did to _them?_ Monsters like Cornelius would give _anything_ to get their hands on you, to cut you _apart_ and turn you into--”

“ _You made me a prisoner!_ ” Raze screamed. “You left me _alone_ in an airless cage for _eleven years!_ I never saw the _sun!_ ”

“ _I was protecting you!_ ”

“You made me _sick_ in the _head_ you fucking evil _cunt-wipe!_   It took _two years_ before I could--”

“ _Hey!_ ” Anna-Marie shouted, flying over the hedge and dropping down between Raze and Mystique. “Ah am gonna _wash_ your mouth out with _soap_ , ya nasty little _cretin_.”

“Oh _please_ do.”

Kurt whipped around, startled to find Daken standing not two yards away. “Where did you come from?” he asked. It stood to reason Daken could be quiet enough that Kurt wouldn’t hear his approach, but why hadn’t Anna-Marie seen him when she was airborne?

“Oh I think we’ve all had enough existential unanswerable for one day,” Daken dismissed with a wave and then cast Raze a stern glare. “Where did the _gun_ come from?”

“Stole it off the SHIELD fucker,” Raze snorted. “What do _you_ care?”

“Did he shoot anyone?” Daken asked, walking right up and catching Raze’s arm.

Kurt hesitated a moment and then let Raze go, noting that Daken’s sudden presence seemed to have calmed him slightly. Pheromones or something else? “He didn’t,” Kurt said, watching Daken cautiously. Even if Kurt found himself grateful to Daken for being instrumental in bringing the baby-Raze to the safety of the school, and even if he was indeed redeemable through Laura’s good influence, he still had the instincts, reflexes and training of a seasoned killer, and having him this close to the school, the students, made Kurt nervous.

“Good.”

“ _Fuck_ off, Daken. I’m taking this bitch’s _head_ ,” Raze growled, glaring up at Daken but not straining against his hold.

“We’ve been over this,” Daken said, looking down his nose at the teenager.

“She _walked_ right into the fucking _school!_ ” Raze protested. “She’s not gonna leave me alone until she’s fucking _dead!_ ”

Daken’s other hand shot out and clamped over Raze’s mouth. “I am getting so _tired_ of your one-word vocabulary,” he sighed, rolling his eyes as he hooked an arm around Raze’s shoulders and pulled him into something almost like a backward embrace while Raze made an indignant sound and sank his teeth into Daken’s hand. Daken didn’t even acknowledge the bite, which had more than a little blood weeping down over his knuckles, as he turned his eyes to Mystique. “Raven, I need you to be rational for two minutes and listen to me,” he said calmly.

“Go back to hell,” Raven snarled, glaring at him.

“You’re not a good mother, Raven. That’s an undeniable fact at this point. And if you try to raise that baby, he’s going to hate you. The proof is right here,” Daken said in a cool, even voice, eyes locked on hers unwaveringly. “But if you walk away right now, you could still be Mommy who sends the most wonderful presents at Christmas. And that is the very best you can hope for.”

Mystique’s gaze fell to the ground and her shoulders trembled. “... Go to hell,” she whispered and then turned away and started walking.

Kurt let out a slow sigh as his mother drifted farther away down the street, her appearance changing into a slightly dumpy middle-aged white woman in jogging sweats as she went. “... Thank you, Daken,” he said quietly, glancing to the other man. Anna-Marie just crossed her arms and gave him a wary look.

Daken smirked and gave a small chuckle, letting Raze go. “See? I told you. Good-cop bad-cop,” he said quietly.

“You don’t seriously think she’s just giving up,” Raze replied in a low voice, much calmer as he watched his mother’s retreating back.

“That’s why the paranoia is so important. You’ve shown her that she _can’t_ see you coming,” Daken reasoned, putting a hand on Raze’s shoulder and squeezing it.

“... That was an _act?_ ” Anna-Marie hissed, barely restrained anger shining in her eyes.

“Nah, I really do hate her,” Raze shrugged.

“You brought a _gun_ into my school for some stupid little _act?_ ” she demanded, voice getting a little louder and more dangerous.

Raze snorted dismissively and rolled his eyes. “I _wanted_ to. Firing off a few shots would have made it _way_ better. Maybe put one through her jaw. _That_ would have got her attention!”

“And done nothing to endear you to the respectable members of your family,” Daken sighed. “It’s not real.”

Kurt crouched down and scooped the pistol up off the pavement, looking at it more closely. The barrel wasn’t cold and when he pinched it, he found that there was a slight flex to it. “... Keratin?” he asked, glancing up at Raze.

“And some bone,” Raze shrugged.

Kurt frowned, feeling slightly queasy at that. “Are you...”

“Healing factor’s already replaced it,” Raze snorted dismissively. “And I’m fucking _hungry_ , so which one of you jerks is going to be my favorite big brother and buy me a burger or something?” he demanded, crossing his arms and glancing back and forth between Daken and Kurt.

There was no logical reason for Raze’s question to be so unsettling. Obviously Daken _would_ be Raze’s older brother as well, and on some level Kurt had to have realized that from the moment Laura showed up at his door with the baby, but it felt odd to suddenly find himself in the same category as the assassin. Daken didn’t seem ruffled in the least, rolling his eyes and letting out an irritated sound. “I _believe_ what Raze is trying to equivocate is that he would like to have a sit-down with the two of you on neutral ground,” he said.

“Ah,” Kurt bit his lip and looked at Anna-Marie; she still had her arms crossed and her brows drawn into a wary, ready frown as she watched Daken. She glanced at Kurt and pursed her lips for a moment before giving a minute nod.

“Ah’ll go check on Ruth and meet y’all at Harry’s,” she said quietly, dropping her arms and taking flight back up over the hedge.

“Thank you,” Kurt called after her and then looked back to the teenaged Raze. “... Even though this has been a very... tense introduction, I am very glad to meet you, Raze,” he said.

Raze looked away, radiating discomfort. “Sure. Whatever,” he muttered. “You’re _both_ supposed to be dead already and I never should have met you, but why not, right?”

000

Raven had erased her tear ducts but her eyes were still burning as she trudged along the shoulder of Graymalkin Lane, teeth clenched and eyes focused straight ahead. Her mind was seething. Part of her was seriously considering Daken’s suggestion, part of her was rebelling specifically because it had been _Daken’s_. Part of her was affronted simply because they’d taken something that belonged to _her_ , and she wanted it back simply because it was _hers_. Part of her wanted to prove them wrong; she _could_ be a real mother, she _could_ be loved. Part of her knew that was a lie.

She froze suddenly at the sound of a low, impressed whistle. “Damn, that kid really hates you, doesn’t he.”

Raven whipped around to her left, to find Victor leaning against the leeward wall of a slightly dilapidated bus shelter, looking sideways at her, his arms crossed and a slight smirk on his lips. “... _You_...” she hissed, shifting her fingers into talons, ready to carve a few pieces out of the lummox.

“It’s probably my fault somehow,” Victor said with a shrug and a vaguely wistful look. “This time-travel bullshit is just confusing, y’know? I mean, obviously _something_ got fucked up along the way, because I’ve got no clue what’s got him _that_ pissed. But I don’t know, do you think it’s _my_ fault or maybe McCoy’s?”

“SHUT UP!” Raven snapped, lunging at him.

“Yeah, that’s enough of _that_ ,” Victor twisted, managing to avoid her strike, and grabbed Raven by the throat, throwing her to the unmown grass next to the shelter and coming down on top of her, knee slamming into her gut. “Will you _knock_ it off already? What do you want with a _baby_ anyway?”

Raven coughed, digging her fingers into the dirt and squeezing her eyes shut as she tried to regain equilibrium. She’d never seen Victor move quite that fast before. Something else was niggling at the edge of her consciousness, some wrongness.

“Babies are annoying and smelly and disgusting and _useless_. You don’t want all that _hassle_ ,” Victor snorted, lip curling with disgust. A spark of perfect clarity lit up Raven’s mind as her ragged breath caught and her eyes widened: Victor was much too light, close to a hundred pounds shy. “You don’t want a _baby_ , Raven,” Victor said with a grin, lips pulling away from his teeth and turning deep blue as his voice changed. “You want a _legacy_.”

Raven lay frozen and silent, not quite daring to breath as she stared up at the boy crouched over her. His hair was longer by three or four inches, the ‘clothing’ was slightly different, but everything else... “Raze?” she breathed.

The boy leaned back on his haunches, letting Raven go and giving her space to sit up. “I’d say ‘the one and only’, but _that_ ship’s sailed,” he said with a grin.

“... How?” Raven whispered, sitting up and glancing in the direction of the school, where she’d just _left_ this boy, furious and hate-filled, with everyone else who despised her.

“Because time-travel is _bullshit_ and I never should have let Charlie talk me into it,” Raze sighed, rolling his eyes and giving a shrug. Then he glanced back at Raven, his eyes unreadable for a moment, before surging toward her. Raven braced herself for another hit, but she was completely unprepared, unready, unequipped, for the arms circling around her and pulling her in. Raze rested a hand against the back of her neck and pressed his face into her shoulder and was silent for a few seconds before mumbling very quietly, “... I missed you.”

“... You don’t hate me?” Raven whimpered, not quite daring to return the embrace.

“Of _course_ I _hate_ you,” Raze laughed softly. “You’re a cold, hard bitch and I can’t _stand_ you... and I missed you, Mama.”

Raven hesitantly wrapped her arms around her perfect son and stroked her fingers through his hair. She leaned her cheek against his temple as her lips slowly found their way into a smile. Let those self-righteous bastards play house. She didn’t need their grief anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See the finale of Uncanny X-Force v1 for what the hell Laura and Evan are talking about.
> 
> See X-Men Legacy's Necrosha tie-in for details on Ruth's deal, but the summary is that Ruth Aldine, Blindfold, is Destiny's granddaughter or great granddaughter (Destiny wasn't quite sure which). Mystique has seen her in passing but never spoken to her or heard her go into cryptic fortune-teller mode before.
> 
> Did you remember that Charles and Raze have traveled back in time twice? At the end of Battle of the Atom, the future-Brotherhood gets blown up in a big way, but in issue 28 of All-New, the Raze from the first go-round wrights a letter to the future _after_ that went down, and given that he is theoretically _really_ hard to kill, him surviving the explosion is entirely logical. And since the second-trip time-warped themselves back a few weeks _later_ than the first, they didn't overwright the first-trippers (like Charles Raze seem to have assumed would happen. Oops, maybe should have let Dr. McCoy talk, since he's the one who could have totally predicted this would happen.)


	12. Lunch Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raze had shifted his skin to a Caucasian hue and his eyes were a match to Daken’s now; he’d almost certainly done it to avoid attracting attention, but the strategy seemed to have backfired by the way the waitress’s eyes lingered on his face as Raze slid into the booth.
> 
> She tilted her head slightly to the side, eyebrows raised as Raze glanced back up at her, tensing. “Say, you’re not- Were you related to--”
> 
> “Get _lost_ , Fatty! Nobody’s talking to-- _Mmf!_ ” Raze’s snap cut off as Daken’s hand slapped over his mouth.

“Hey Kurt, you playing hooky?” The waitress gave him a grin as she bustled over to greet them, asking, “Three today?”

“Four. Anna-Marie will be joining us soon,” Kurt returned the smile. “Is the corner open today, Elisa?”

“Sure, honey. Doesn’t tend to be all that crowded this time on a weekday,” she grabbed a handful of menus and gave them a wave as she headed for the back of the main dining room.

“Thank you, Elisa,” Kurt said, glancing back at Daken and Raze as he followed. Raze had shifted his skin to a Caucasian hue and his eyes were a match to Daken’s now; he’d almost certainly done it to avoid attracting attention, but the strategy seemed to have backfired by the way Elisa’s eyes lingered on his face as Raze slid into the booth.

She tilted her head slightly to the side, eyebrows raised as Raze glanced back up at her, tensing. “Say, you’re not- Were you related to--”

“Get _lost_ , Fatty! Nobody’s talking to-- _Mmf!_ ” Raze’s snap cut off as Daken’s hand slapped over his mouth.

“I am _so_ sorry about my brother,” Daken said quickly, almost pulling Raze into a head-lock. “He’s a bit stressed-out right now. It’s been a difficult few weeks,” he said smoothly, giving Elisa an apologetic smile saturated with charm.

“Oh,” Elisa stared back at Daken, looking startled and fascinated as a flush overtook her cheeks. “That’s- that’s all right. I- I mean- D-did you want any drinks to start out?” she flustered, eyes glued to Daken.

“Maybe a local chardonnay? Anything you’d recommend?” he asked, and Kurt found himself fighting the urge to grimace, his skin crawling as he watched Daken’s unnatural charisma tie the woman in knots. The effect that had ensnared Elisa also seemed to have rendered Raze very calm; he wasn’t fighting Daken’s grip and his eyes were distant and half-lidded.

“Oh, well, I- I mean- I-I’m not so much into wine- more a cider kind of- b-but that’s not what you’re asking...” Elisa mumbled, flushing darker and looking embarrassed. “I- I’ll ask Harry! He’s more up on the local vineyards,” she suggested brightly and started to turn away before catching herself and snapping back around, remembering Kurt. “Di-did you want anything, Kurt?”

“Water is fine,” Kurt said, forcing himself to smile.

“Sure thing. I’ll just let you boys give the menus a look and be back in a few,” Elisa chirped with a grin and hurried away.

“... What was _that?_ ” Kurt demanded coolly, turning to Daken.

“It was harmless,” Daken replied unconcernedly, letting Raze go.

“St-stop hitting on fat-waitress, you _slut_ ,” Raze mumbled, resettling himself in his seat and looking disoriented.

“If ‘fat-waitress’ doesn’t _spit_ in your _food_ , it is entirely thanks to _me_ ,” Daken retorted, casting him a mild glare.

“Her _name_ is _Elisa_ ,” Kurt snarled. “And you are _both_ being _needlessly_ cruel to her.”

“I'm not,” Daken retorted, folding his arms. “Overweight or unattractive women enjoy casual, non-threatening flirtation. It makes them feel _pretty_. Did Elisa _seem_ put-out by it?” He raised a challenging eyebrow.

Kurt frowned disapprovingly at him but couldn’t really argue that Elisa hadn't seemed pleased with the attention. He turned his eyes to Raze, who was studying the menu raptly. “Was there anything you wanted to ask me, Raze?” he asked.

Raze chewed on his lip, not looking up, and then spoke in a quiet monotone. “So are you going to turn baby-me into one of your X-brats and get him killed before he’s old enough to vote?” he asked.

Kurt stared at him for a moment. “The school is meant to _protect_ young mutants,” he said.

“Yeah, and you’ve got such a great track-record with _that_ ,” Raze snorted, rolling his eyes.

The tension was cut by Elisa reappearing with a tray and a pitcher of ice water. She put the pitcher on the table and then set a wineglass in front of Daken. “So this is from a winery up in Green County. It’s three years old and Harry says they had a real sensational crop that season,” she explained with a pleased grin as she set four tumblers on the table and started filling them from the pitcher. “You just let me know if that’s not working for you.”

“It sounds perfect. Thank you, Elisa,” Daken said, giving her smile.

Elisa blushed again and pulled a notepad out of her apron pocket. “S-so did you have a chance to decide what you’d like?” she asked brightly.

“Number eight, a garbage platter, coleslaw, onion rings and a chocolate shake,” Raze listed off, flipping the menu shut.

“Did you want the coleslaw instead of fries?” Elisa asked.

“Did I _say_ that?” Raze demanded, glaring at her.

“ _Raze_ ,” Daken hissed and then smiled placidly up at Elisa again. “Actually, we should probably wait for Anna-Marie to get here before we order.”

“It’s all right,” Kurt said shaking his head. “We already had lunch earlier, she will probably just want an order of jalapeno poppers... And I’ll get fried pickles.”

Daken gave a half-shrug as Elisa turned eagerly to him and glanced down at the menu. “Ten ounce sirloin... what specifically is ‘mixed greens’?”

“There’s brussel sprouts, string beans and wax beans and baby-carrots, cooked up on the grill,” Elisa answered.

“Interesting combination,” Daken murmured, raising an eyebrow. “That’s fine.”

“All right, I’ve got a bacon-ranch double-patty with fries, a garbage platter, side of coleslaw, side of onion rings, chocolate shake, jalapeno poppers, fried pickles and a ten ounce with mixed greens,” Elisa listed cheerfully, reading off her notepad and then glanced at Daken again, pausing for a moment before hesitantly starting. “So I- I gotta ask- Are you- are you related to Logan?”

Daken was quiet, looking down at his menu as he slowly folded it, stacked it together with the others and held the pile up to Elisa before speaking. “Elisa, you seem sweet...” he said softly, giving her a penetrating stare. “But I’m uncomfortable with this conversation now.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Elisa said, flushing darker and looking dismayed. “I’m- for-forget I mentioned it. I’m sorry!” she turned quickly and fled back toward the kitchen.

“Was that _really_ necessary?” Kurt demanded.

“It was true,” Daken replied, picking up his wine and taking a sip.

Kurt sighed, more exasperated with Daken and Raze than a whole class of unruly freshman had ever managed to make him. He felt a surge of relief when he heard a welcome voice announcing, “All right, Ruth and Lin are babysittin’ and Warbird’s keepin’ an eye on them.” Anna-Marie came up to the table and slid into the booth next to Kurt. “Now what the _hell_ did you think you were doin’ with that _damned_ little stunt you pulled at the school? Somebody coulda been hurt!”

“The gun wasn’t real!” Raze protested.

“And _you!_ ” Anna-Marie pointed an accusing finger at Daken. “You _encouraged_ him? Was it _your_ damned _idea?_ ”

“Raven needed a demonstration,” Daken replied calmly, crossing his arms.

“Ah’ve got half a mind to haul you into SHIELD _right now!_ ” Anna-Marie snapped.

“On what charges?” Daken challenged.

“ _Killin’_ people!” Anna-Marie hissed in a low voice.

“Show me the evidence,” Daken replied with a smirk.

“There’s damned _video_ of you slicin’ and dicin’ for _Osborn!_ ” Anna-Marie snarled.

“Refusing an order from the director of national defense would have been treason. Try again,” Daken parried, radiating smugness.

Anna-Marie uttered a wordless sound of frustration, glaring at him, as Raze started laughing. “Let us all please calm down,” Kurt pleaded, folding his hands on the tabletop. “Now, Raze, you were concerned about whether I plan to raise your younger-self as an X-Man,” he said calmly. “What I intend to do is raise him and teach him so that he is able to make his _own_ choices and decide for himself how he wishes to live his life.”

Raze didn’t look at him, he was picking at the tablecloth and squirming in his seat, obviously agitated. “Raze,” Daken called, hooking an arm around his shoulders and pulling the teenager in. “Calm down.”

“Let _go’a_ me,” Raze growled, kicking at the wall. “Sick’a your drug-dealer smelliness.”

“Settle,” Daken said gently, not letting him go, and Raze’s fidgeting started to subside.

“What’s wrong with you?” Anna-Marie asked, frowning and watching Raze keenly.

“ _Fuck_ you, bitch. You don’t _know_ me,” Raze cast her a glare.

“That’s why Ah’m _askin’._ What’s wrong with you?” Anna-Marie retorted. “Because _somethin’_ definitely is.” Kurt found himself nodding slightly; Raze’s behavior was just _off_. Kurt spent every day dealing with children Raze’s age, often ornery, disagreeable ones. Raze’s behavior was odd, even for a traumatized mutant teenager.

Raze glared between them for a moment and then turned his ocular wrath on the wall. “... ‘Reactive attachment disorder’. ‘S’what Charles calls it,” Raze muttered. “Says it’s not like the phobia thing. Not something he can fix.”

“What does it mean?” Anna-Marie asked.

“What am I, the internet? How the fuck should _I_ know?” Raze snapped. “Look it up!”

“It used to be called ‘Russian orphanage syndrome’, before they made up something more scientific-sounding,” Daken said, looking curiously down at the top of Raze’s head. “It’s what happens when you let a baby cry day after day, until it finally realizes nobody cares, and stops crying entirely.” He glanced back across the table at Kurt. “If I had to guess, I’d say that the robot-nanny Raven had minding the nursery was designed to keep a baby clean and fed, not provide comfort. Are you familiar with the Harlow experiments?”

“Of course,” Kurt nodded, watching Raze and feeling his stomach clench. “... How often did she leave you alone?”

“Anytime she had something more important than me going. So, y’know, _always_ ,” Raze snorted, crossing his arms and continuing to glare at the wall.

“... That baby didn’t cry or even fuss once today, Kurt,” Anna-Marie said quietly.

“With personality disorders, the younger a child is when the issue is caught and corrected for, the more likely they are to recover. Infants generally make a full recovery with no lingering effects. Toddlers and small children can often be rehabilitated with intense treatment. Teenagers and adults... it’s sometimes possible to manage enough damage control to make them ‘productive members of society’, but they’ll never be ‘well’,” Daken noted casually, picking up his wine again. “I believe overbearing helicopter-parenting is much of the usual treatment for countering the abused-children spectrum of disorders. Although given how small he is, it may be as simple as just reacclimating him to the idea that somebody’s listening.”

“... Psychology buff, huh?” Anna-Marie raised an eyebrow at him.

“I like to read.”

Kurt sighed, shaking his head slightly. “The baby isn’t the only one who concerns me,” he said quietly, watching Raze ignore him.

“The baby’s the only one you get a say on,” Daken replied shortly.

“What, this one’s coming with _you?_ ” Anna-Marie demanded, glaring at him. “Like _hell_.”

“We’re figuring it out as we go,” Daken sniffed dismissively, and Raze tilted his head back, looking up at him with an expression halfway between curious and suspicious. “He doesn’t belong at your school and he wouldn’t be comfortable there.”

Anna-Marie sucked in a breath, about to launch fully into the argument, but paused as she spotted Elisa approaching with a large tray. “Hey there, Anna, how’s life in the city?” Elisa greeted her with a warm smile as she started setting down plates (Daken’s first).

“Oh, y’know Elisa, loud and fast,” Anna-Marie said with a shrug and a forced smile. “They been rearrangin’ the team since, well, since a lot of things, and we’re still not sure what the new roster’s gonna be exactly, so, kinda on tenterhooks about that one.”

“Any of the possibles looking good to you?” Elisa asked.

“There’s this inhuman girl Steve’s been talkin’ to, she seems like good people and she might pack a wallop, but she don’t really have the trainin’.” Anna-Marie wrinkled her nose a little, “He’s got his heart set on getting’ an inhuman on the team, for ‘species relations’ or whatever, but Ah’m worried she’s gonna be a liability, y’know?” She sighed. “Ah thought he’d maybe call up some of the Academy grads. Striker and Light Speed have really come into their own the last year.”

“Maybe the Avengers just aren’t quite as eager to use teenagers for canon-fodder as... _some_ organizations,” Daken said breezily, eyes focused on laying his napkin over his lap and arranging his silverware.

Anna-Marie turned a glare on him as Elisa frowned and shifted on her feet, looking uncomfortable. “W-well, I hope that all works out,” Elisa said awkwardly. “Everybody okay here? Need anything else?”

“This is fine, Elisa. Thank you,” Kurt said, giving her a strained smile.

“All right then, you all enjoy your meal,” Elisa said with a nod before turning away from the table. After two steps she paused and seemed to waver in place a moment, before setting her serving tray on a nearby table, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“Elisa, are you all right?” Kurt called. Elisa didn’t respond as she folded her arms on the table and put her head down. “Elisa?”

“ _Kurt_ ,” Anna-Marie hissed and he looked up and felt his stomach sink as he saw that every other patron in the room had done the same as Elisa and the diner had gone silent.

“... Vas...” Kurt whispered and then started as the nearest chair was pulled away from its table and turned around to face the end of their booth. A figure bled out of the air to settle himself in the seat. It wasn’t a teleport; he’d already been there, just unseen and undetected. But evermore startling than the man’s sudden appearance was his _appearance_. “... Mein Gott.”

“ _You!_ ” Anna-Marie snarled, starting to get to her feet and then freezing for a moment and sitting herself back down, expression getting even angrier. “Let. Me. _Go_ ,” she growled.

“Then _stay_ in your _seat_ ,” the young man who was the spitting image of Charles Xavier replied coolly.

“You waited for the food to arrive,” Daken noted, starting to cut his steak.

“Raze would have whined the entire time if I hadn’t,” the young man shrugged.

“... What is your name?” Kurt asked, throat feeling dry.

“Charles,” the young man said.

“C.J.,” Daken said with a hint of a smirk.

“ _Charles_ ,” the young man cast him a glare.

“What the _hell_ do you want?” Anna-Marie hissed at him and Charles’ eyes turned back to her.

“Where is the Red Skull?” he demanded.

Anna-Marie looked thrown for a moment. “What?”

“ _Where_ is the _Red Skull?_ ” Charles repeated, voice getting a sharper edge to it.

“... Why?” Anna-Marie asked softly, still glaring at Charles.

“Why do you _think?_ ” Charles narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to _kill_ the bastard,” he said. As uncanny as his resemblance to Charles Xavier was, it was only skin-deep, and his eyes were as cold as ice.

“... You ain’t takin’ Raze with you,” Anna-Marie said firmly.

“And why do you think you have any say in that?” Charles raised a brow.

“ _Look_ you,” Anna-Marie snapped, clenching the edge of the table with her hands. “This kid may be a miserable, fowl-mouthed, little turd, but he is still _my brother_ and Ah don’t care _who_ you look like or who you _are_ , you _ain’t_ messin’ with _my family_ no more!”

Raze choked momentarily on what he was eating and then started laughing and beside him Daken chuckled, shaking his head. Charles smirked, letting out a small, amused huff and looking down.

“ _What?_ ” Anna Marie demanded, glaring back and forth between Charles and Raze.

“He doesn’t remind you of anyone?” Daken asked, leaning on an elbow and grinning at Anna-Marie across the table. “I mean, if you ignore the face, _he_ takes after Mommy even more than Raze does.”

“... This is not possible...” Kurt murmured, shaking his head slowly and staring at Charles as Anna-Marie looked back and forth between all of them.

“You are _shitting_ me!” Anna-Marie cursed. “How did _this_ happen?!”

“Aren’t you a little _old_ to need that explained?” Daken hummed.

“ _You_ shut up!” Anna-Marie snapped at him.

“ _Where_ is the _Red Skull?_ ” Charles demanded again.

Anna-Marie went quiet, staring at him and swallowing as she clenched her fists. She took a breath and said, “You can work with the Avengers to--”

“No,” Charles cut her off.

“Look, Ah’m not gonna--”

“The Avengers _arrest_ him, _then what?_ ” Charles asked, glaring at her. “Turn him over to SHIELD? So they can turn the Skull into _their_ weapon? Or let him escape due to their _staggering incompetence?_ It was truly _remarkable_ how easily we left the Cage,” Anna-Marie glared silently at him for a few more seconds. “... Do you _really_ want the Skull _arrested?_ ” Charles asked, just above a whisper.

“... Latveria. We have intelligence says Doom grabbed him in the confusion,” Anna-Marie spat out quickly.

“ _Rogue!_ ” Kurt gasped.

“I didn’t say _nothin’_ , Kurt,” Anna-Marie said, turning to give him a pointed look.

“Anna-Marie, the Professor wouldn’t have wanted--”

“The Professor wouldn’t have wanted _his_ powers winding up in SHIELD’s hands,” Anna-Marie said, closing her eyes and biting her lip for a moment. “... I trust my team, but I don’t trust _Hill_ as far as I can _spit_.”

“Charles,” Kurt leaned out over the table to look the young man in the eye. “Your father would not have wanted you to be a killer,” he pleaded.

“My father is _dead_ ,” Charles said in a low, dangerous voice. The next moment, he was gone.

“Wait, come back!” Kurt called, because Charles hadn’t teleported, he’d just cut himself out of the sensory landscape. He had to still be in the room. “He wouldn’t have _wanted_ this!” Kurt cried helplessly. Around them, Elisa and the small handful of patrons stirred, waking up and going back to what they had been doing, the interruption going entirely unnoticed.

“He’s seriously gonna ditch me here? Prick,” Raze grumbled.

“Eat your lunch,” Daken replied dismissively.

“Why did you tell him?” Kurt asked quietly, turning back to Anna-Marie, who was staring down at the table. “He’s going to be a murderer, if he doesn’t get himself killed first.”

“You shouldn’t blame her, Wagner,” Daken said calmly as he set his silverware down, having finished his meal. “I can’t say why he didn’t want to dig the information out of her head directly, but I do know what someone looks like when they’ve been _cajoled_.”

“I...” Anna-Marie mumbled and then frowned, glancing up at Daken through her bangs without lifting her head.

Kurt sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. “... We must do something to stop this.”

“I won’t be letting him just walk into Latveria like a complete idiot,” Daken said. Kurt and Anna-Marie looked up, both frowning at Daken in vague bafflement. “I already told him he’s not dragging Raze on anymore suicide-runs. Latveria is a _very_ complicating factor, and any venture that involves dealing with it will need to be _carefully_ considered.”

“... You’re going to stop him?” Kurt asked softly.

“I’m not going to let him take it on unless I think he’s adequately prepared, has fully considered the situation and holds a high likelihood of success,” Daken corrected. “I don’t have any interest in breaking these two out of _another_ prison.”

Raze had paused, midway through his garbage platter, to give Daken a curious look, and Kurt had to admit a certain curiosity himself. Daken had become protective of Raze. And that protectiveness extended vicariously to Charles due to their apparent attachment. Had Laura precipitated all of this, or had family always been a strong motivator for Daken? When Logan was alive, Daken had seemed to take umbrage with the entire concept, but it had still been the defining factor of his life.

000

“Are we walking in the front door this time? Does that mean I’m no longer the secret mistress fleeing out the servant’s entrance before dawn?” Daken drawled as they walked along the hedge toward the school’s main gate.

“The student’s all know you were here before. It’s been a popular subject for gossip,” Wagner sighed. “Acknowledging your presence will do more to cool the situation than attempting to hide you.”

“And last time _I_ was here, I trashed the place and kidnapped your guys! _Ah_ , good times,” Raze said with a grin and Rogue slapped the back of his head. “ _Hey!_ ”

“I believe it’s best-behavior time now, Raze,” Daken noted with a smirk. “So it would be polite to pretend you’re very contrite about the last time.”

“Define--”

“Remorseful.”

Raze snorted and rolled his eyes.

“You only have to pretend. That’s what being polite is all about: telling the appropriate lie,” Daken said cheerfully as Rogue cast him a disdainful glare and Wagner sighed and shook his head.

Raze grinned hugely, casting Daken a sideways glance. “Y’know, you are pretty good at these etiquette lessons.”

“Daken, I appreciate that you have lived a very difficult life,” Wagner said, sounding somewhat exasperated. “But do you really think it is necessary or beneficial to teach Raze bitterness?”

“Raze’s already bitter,” Daken replied serenely, glancing around at the students scattered about the front acre. The teenagers were eyeing their procession with silent curiosity. “I’m teaching him to channel his bitterness into sardonic irony rather than ineffectual rage.”

“And you believe that is an improvement?”

“Sure. It’s much funnier,” Daken replied flippantly and Raze snickered.

“Y’all’re _sick_ ,” Rogue sneered.

“It’s laugh or cry, Miss Darkholm,” Daken said.

“ _Don’t_ call me that.”

They reached the front steps and made their way into the building, where Daken spotted Laura descending the main steps to meet them while Storm and Jubilation Lee stood on the landing, watching. “I expected you hours ago,” Laura said, crossing the floor to Daken and giving him a questioning look.

“We made a quick stop at the Baxter Building, and then we had a little stake-out,” Daken explained.

“Stake-out?” Laura frowned.

“Raven showed up. I thought she might,” Daken said, watching Laura bite her lip, brow furrowing. “She’s been discouraged.”

“... Do you think she’ll stay away?”

“She’s an intelligent woman, when she chooses to be rational,” Daken offered a shrug.

Laura sighed and nodded, then turned back toward the interior, gesturing for him to follow. “Come on.”

“Why?” Daken asked, keeping his feet planted.

“Just for a few minutes,” Laura said, glancing back at him. “Storm wants to talk to you.”

“She already talked to me,” Daken protested, a sudden discomfort of feeling trapped rising within him, and he could hear Raze making a low rumble in his throat.

“Daken, please. Just for a few minutes,” Laura said calmly.

Daken pursed his lips, teeth gritted, and nodded. “Fine,” he muttered, following Laura up the stairs. “... And Psylocke?” he asked as they reached the landing.

“Psylocke?” Laura asked, glancing back at him with a puzzled frown for a moment and then looking at Storm.

Storm raised a pale eyebrow. “... I didn't think it would be necessary to have a psychic moderating for this conversation, but if you'd like to see her--”

“I was just curious,” Daken replied breezily, following as Storm started leading the way to her office. “I suppose our relationship has reached a new level of _trust_ then.”

“It was my understanding that even psychics can't tell when you're lying,” Storm said with a smooth shrug. “I suppose trust is the only option available to me in this situation.”

“There's always alienation.”

“I believe we've tried that already and it wasn't particularly beneficial to anyone,” Storm shook her head as she pulled her office door open and held it for them.

Inside the office, Laura seated herself in one of the chairs facing the desk and folded her hands, the picture of patience, while Raze by contrast leaned against the window sill, glaring outside, arms folded and radiating discomfort. Daken took the chair next to Laura and leaned back, affecting ease while his eyes followed Storm as she sat down behind the desk.

“... Laura tells me that you are going after Paradise and the Facility,” Storm said, looking calmly back at him.

“That's the short-list,” Daken agreed, feigning disinterest as he felt a prickle of irritation that Laura had disclosed aspects of their loosely formed plan. “Do you plan to stop us?”

“You will have access to whatever resources you require. Just ask,” Storm said.

Daken stared at her a moment and then glanced at Laura, who had her head tilted slightly to the side, looking faintly surprised. He turned back to Storm. “So what's the catch then?”

“There isn't one,” Storm said, shaking her head. “What you're planning to do is important to Mutantity and to me, and I trust Laura's judgment on what is necessary and acceptable force.” She paused, wetting her lip and frowning slightly. “Actually--”

“Mmhm. Always a catch,” Raze sang from his spot next to the window, not bothering to look at them.

“When you make a raid, as I'm sure you intend to, if you encounter any mutants, or anyone else, being held captive, I would ask you to either bring them to us or call to have them transported,” Storm said carefully. “And if you find yourselves in a situation that has escalated beyond what you had prepared for, please do not hesitate to call for backup.”

Daken studied her for a moment, processing that. “So, you're offering unofficial sanction and an under-the-table expense account for us to use whatever measures we deem necessary to combat mutant exploitation?” he asked, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Are we X-Force now?”

“There's already an X-Force, you're going to have to come up with your own name,” Storm retorted. “And I said that I trust _Laura's_ judgment. Your 'unofficial sanction' lasts only so long as she remains satisfied your mission is being undertaken appropriately.”

“... An intriguing proposition, at the least,” Daken murmured, nodding slowly. “Of course, we shall need to have a 'family meeting' to discuss it.”

000

“What's _that_ about?” Anna Marie asked, leaning against the stair rail and frowning as Storm and the three half-siblings disappeared into her office.

“Stormy's trying to take a swing at being cool-mom, I think,” Jubilee said with a shrug. “It sounds like Laura's drafted Daken into _something_ and Storm wants to get ahead of it.”

“A wise choice,” Kurt nodded, frowning slightly. “Laura has her father's tendencies to both overextend herself and refuse to ask for help.”

Anna Marie blew a frustrated breath out through her teeth. “So Laura's the boss of Daken now and Daken's got some kinda handle on teenage-Raze,” she listed off, grimacing slightly. Her only personal experience with Daken before today had been when he was all horsemened-up, and she should know damn well by now that _that_ wasn't a great gauge of a person's normal character, but she'd trusted Logan and she'd trusted his judgment.

What was grating on her now was the way Daken had covered for her at the restaurant, stepping in and explaining away her un-Avenger-like behavior with a smooth, believable lie. Trying to buddy-up to her by getting her out of hot water with Kurt? Two and a half surprise little-brothers, and the person who reminded her most of Raven here wasn't even related to her.

Anna Marie scoffed and shook her head, irritated. “ _Fine_ , they're all watchin' each other, but who the _heck_ is keepin' an eye on _C.J.?_ ”

“Who?” Jubilee asked, looking puzzled.

“That--”

“Rogue! Nightcrawler!” Warbird's voice boomed as she came marching down the hallway with Lin Lee and the baby in her feathery wake. “The infant is undamaged, however Ruth Aldine absconded the moment my back was turned!”

“ _What?_ ” Anna Marie demanded. “Where the heck did she _go?_ ”

000

“Daken and X are a loss. I’ll make their lives hell later, but we need to get back on schedule,” Raven announced loudly, walking back into the Changeling with Raze, once again disguised as Victor, in her wake.

“And that might _mean_ something if we had any idea what the schedule was, or, you know, what it is we’re _doing_ ,” Shogun retorted irritably.

“How right you are,” Raven agreed.

“So, are you going tell us then?” Junk asked.

“Junk, at some point your dimwittedness stops being precious and just gets tedious,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes, and headed for the control room. “We take off in five minutes.”

“Good help, right?” Raze snickered in Victor’s voice.

“Hey, Mystique?” Shogun called.

Raven groaned, grimacing in distaste and turned back. “ _What_ is it _now?_ ” she snapped.

Shogun silently pointed out the still open ramp of the Changeling to where a car was pulling up to the side of the road. She frowned, watching the back door open and somebody climb out. Then her breath caught as the girl pushed the door shut and waved at the driver, before turning and walking toward the cloaked ship as the car pulled away. It was the girl from the school, the one she’d seen holding her baby in Kurt’s room.

She’d seen the child before in passing, one of the students at the old school, when it had still been in Xavier’s name. A little girl wearing a blindfold, Raven hadn’t found it particularly remarkable. But now she was four years older, not a little girl any more but a young woman. The shape of her face had changed and only now did Raven notice how achingly familiar it was. And the timbre of her voice and the things that she said... Raven swallowed and commanded her feet to move, walking to the ramp and starting down.

“Raven?” Raze’s borrowed voice called behind her.

“Everybody stay in the ship,” Raven commanded, not looking back, and walked out into the field where she’d parked. The girl walked up and came to a stop in front of her, her blindness not inhibiting her ability to navigate in the slightest. She offered Raven a pleasant smile. “... Who are you?” Raven asked.

“Ruth Aldine,” the girl replied. “You knew my grandmother.”

Raven brought her hands to her mouth and blinked quickly, fighting tears. “... Yes,” she agreed in a whisper.

“I met her,” Ruth said. “When Selene brought all the dead mutants back and then killed them again. I met my grandmother’s spirit on Muir Island,” she explained. “She asked me to tell you that it won’t work. Selene broke it, and now it won’t work. The tapes are useless.”

“ _No_ ,” Raven breathed, her stomach turning to ice.

“She didn’t want you to get hurt. She didn’t want you to be alone,” Ruth said, her head tilting downward and slightly to the side. “But now you won’t be.”

Raven closed her eyes and felt tears break loose and roll down her cheeks. She drew a shuttering breath and it made its way back out as a small sob.

“She said to tell you not to make the same mistakes as last time, and don’t be afraid to be happy,” Ruth continued gently, her still-youthful voice an echo of what Destiny’s had been decades ago. “She said to tell you she loved you and to give you this,” Ruth reached out and wrapped her arms around Raven, pulling her into a warm embrace.

Raven returned the hug and clung to the girl for a while, quietly crying. Finally, after managing to force herself into evenly paced breathing, she let Ruth go and took a step back, catching the girl’s hands in hers. “... Who dropped you off, Ruth?” she asked.

“Uber,” Ruth replied.

“Do you have a way to get home?”

“Rogue will come and find me in a few minutes.”

Raven smiled and nodded, a bitter-sweet pain constricting her heart as she reached up and cupped Ruth’s cheek for a moment. Raven kissed her forehead and then let her go, taking another step back. “I’m glad I met you,” she said.

“Me too,” Ruth agreed, nodding and giving another soft smile. “Please take care of yourself. My grandmother said you’re not always very good at that.”

Raven bit her lip and took a slow, steadying breath. “Good bye, Ruth,” she said and turned, walking back toward her ship. She scowled when she caught sight of her ‘crew’ all crowded around the ramp, spying on what should have been a private moment. “We’re _leaving_ ,” she snapped at them.

“Who the hell was that?” Raze demanded. Raven ignored the question and breezed past him, listening to him following her up the hall. Once the door to the command room had closed behind them, Raze grabbed her by the arm, demanding again, “Who the _hell_ was _that?_ ” He released Victor’s form, shrinking more than a foot and glaring at Raven out of his own eyes.

“Did I ever tell you about Destiny?” Raven asked, looking evenly back at him.

Raze faltered, frowning softly. “Your old lover?”

“That was her granddaughter,” Raven explained, nodding vaguely in the direction where she’d spoken to the girl and then looking down. “... She brought me some bad news... and maybe told me what I needed to hear.” She closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath. “... She's just like her grandmother.”

“... So...” Raze mumbled, a slight note of hesitation in his voice.

Raven pulled him into a hug. “... Let’s ditch the baggage. I’m feeling generous, so we’ll take them into the city and dump them there,” she said softly, stroking Raze’s hair. “Then we can go home and plan what we want to do next.”

“Wasn’t there some kind of thing you were working on?” Raze asked, leaning into her.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Raven said shaking her head. “I have you beside me, and that’s all I need.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter was a long time coming because my plans for the overall fic kind of got derailed and I've been trying to figure out a new destination, etc. The problem: back in 2009 there were a couple not-canon-the-artists-are-just-having-fun references to four X-23s that I was planning on playing around with, but then _All New Wolverine_ came out and I was like 'fffffuck,' because apparently I was not the only one toying with that. So I ditched that idea, I don't want it anymore. I only made one tiny reference about it in the previous chapters (Kaykay), so I'm just pulling that snippet of dialogue and taking us down a new road. And I have no hard feelings for _All New Wolverine_ because Bellona has a lot of possibility and I think she and Daken would make a fantastic black-sheep team up.
> 
> I'm sure there was more that I meant to say here, but I have totally forgotten it.


End file.
